And Found
by CreedsGalBirdy
Summary: X1 Sabretooth - Sometimes we all need to get a little lost to be found again. Takes place immediately after the incident at Liberty Island and introduces movieverse Birdy.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Immediately following the incident at Liberty Island, Sabretooth finds help from a young, blonde telepath. This story introduces Birdy (a comic canon character) into the movieverse.

"….and Found"

The lights of New York City twinkled on the surface of the Hudson River, pulling and twisting them with the waves and currents in the water. The surge lapped against the concrete barrier along the river's edge in rhythmic time, a gentle rocking beat. A soft breeze rustled over the discarded coffee cups and newspaper pages that littered the sidewalk along the waterfront. A page of The Times floated and skidded, up and down over the cement, catching the drafts of air coming off the water. It drifted silently until it came to a stop with a crinkling sound, wrapping itself around a slender leg. A meticulously manicured hand reached down and pulled the paper away, letting it catch the next available breeze.

The hand resumed its place in the lap of its owner after lightly brushing any offending dirt from the Jimmy Choo heeled shoe which was filled with an extremely arched foot. The owner sighed and enjoyed the solidarity of being alone and the low murmur of a city asleep. She sighed again, softer now and wiped lightly under one heavily made-up eye at the tear that threatened to ruin her mascara. She laughed ruefully and shook her head, chiding herself for getting so weepy. She knew the rules of the game but somehow she often forgot them. She wasn't paid to love them, not in the conventional sense. She was paid to be pretty, engage them in conversation when it was required and to make the fella paying the bills to look good in front of others. It certainly wasn't a bad way to make a living. Making extremely wealthy men feel good while they were on "business trips" away from their confining home lives. Demanding wives and disobedient children, all spoiled and ungrateful of what they had or where it came from.

But Birdy was grateful. Grateful for her telepathic gift that helped her know what men really wanted. And if sometimes she didn't want to give them what they really wanted, she could at least make them think she'd given it to them. And in return they lavished her with expensive gifts of jewelry, designer clothing, a suite in a fancy hotel, even cash. This last one even gave her a car to use while he was in town visiting with her and…."taking care of business." But she had seen him off this night, his return flight to London, a harpy of a wife and a child he never believed was his. This client was her favorite and she treasured their time together. His departure always made her a bit wistful as well as inciting an internal moral debate. It could be so easy for her to reach into his mind and make him stay with her but she knew it would be a lie. She wanted someone to love her because they wanted to, not because she made them believe they did.

Birdy reached up and pulled the few pins holding her hair up in its classic style and let the locks fall with a shake of her head. The long layers retained a bit of wave as she separated the strands with her fingers. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm herself, her black silk chiffon dress no match for the midnight breeze, and walked to the railing. With her eyes closed, she embraced the serenity that the sleeping hours afforded her mind and exhaled.

As she turned to leave she heard the cadence of the water slapping against the cement wall change, a disruption in its gentle rhythm. Thinking nothing of it she continued on until she heard the water again, more like a gentle splash this time and another sound like something scraping the concrete. She stopped and turned an ear toward the water, listening again. Seconds ticked by and she heard the sounds once more but with more force. _A duck, _she thought, _trying to pull itself onto the raised sidewalk_. She was tempted to peek over the metal railing when something broke the water's surface and scrabbled for purchased on the ledge. Birdy yelped with surprise and shuffled back a step. Whatever had popped up out of the water was gone and all that remained of its presence was the few drops of water already soaked into the sidewalk. Curiosity mixed with a little trepidation propelled her slowly to the edge as she scanned for any mental activity in the area. _Probably just a dumb duck, _she thought again, _or some punk kids out trying to scare folks._ As she looked over the edge, no obvious mental signatures came to her but she was aware of another person nearby. Perhaps a homeless person hiding out in an alleyway across the street, passed out drunk. Oddly enough, however, she couldn't find them when she put forth more effort. It was as if they were shielding themselves or had mental barriers in place that her gentle, telepathic nudging could not breech. It was possibly a stray signal. There really was no one close enough that she could find and besides that, she reasoned, you can't hide from a telepath. She craned her neck to look over the side, down at the river. Nothing. Just the gentle rocking of the Hudson. Birdy smiled to herself, amused that she was letting her imagination take her for a ride.

Her amusement didn't last long.

A surge of water propelled itself toward the railing to the right of where Birdy stood, and she stifled her own scream, covering her mouth with both hands. As she tried to back away quickly, the heel of one shoe caught in a crack in the pavement. Startled at the loss of balance, Birdy threw her hands out to try and steady herself but was unsuccessful. She landed hard on her bottom with a grunt all the while staring wide-eyed at what was emerging from the river.

A massive hand reached for whatever it could find and wrapped around part of the railing, a railing that was meant to keep people from falling _into_ the river. An animal-like noise came from whatever was moving in the water and another hand slowly found its way onto dry land. Birdy stared, her breathing quick and shallow, as a human form pulled itself from the river. She could hear the person's labored breathing as they slumped against the rail. A strange, wet, crackling noise accompanied the deep, heavy breaths of the man from the river and Birdy scrambled to her feet. She circled around but kept out of arm's reach as the hulking figure was finally able to bring itself over the top bar of the fencing. The figure landed hard on the sidewalk with a sloppy, wet sound. It reminded Birdy of the time the washing machine in her old apartment had blown a hose during a load of towels. She'd had to wring them out, one by one, before dropping them into a laundry basket with a sploosh.

On the sidewalk, Birdy took in the figure, still lying on his side and facing the river. He was incredibly large and at least seven feet tall, she surmised. The hands that had pulled him up had large black fingernails that were curved and they reminded Birdy of a bear's claws. From what she could see in the pale light, he had very long hair, maybe blonde, but darker than her golden hue. His breathing was rough and he seemed unconscious. Maybe she should call the police? He might have been the victim of some crime, his body disposed of like trash into the river. Although, how a bulk of a man such as this could become a victim was a wonder to Birdy. She frowned lopsidedly and inched forward. She reached out to touch his mind to see how close to consciousness he was when she cocked her head, confused.

She wasn't picking up any distinctive thought signature. She shook her head to clear it and tried again. Mentally, she gently let her power project toward the man on the ground. Birdy imagined the smoky tendrils of her mind floating out to touch him, filling his head, wrapping themselves around his brain. She closed her eyes and concentrated, the smoky wisps becoming less translucent. She pushed them forward once more, forcing them into his mind. As she did this, he grunted quietly and she felt resistance to her entry. That was different. She had never encountered someone who could refuse her mental prying. As far as she knew, no one she had ever telepathically influenced knew she could go traipsing through their thoughts. Opening her eyes, she withdrew her power and nudged the man with the toe of her shoe. The man exhaled wetly, fluid catching in his throat and he rolled onto his back. It was then that Birdy saw the true extent of his injuries.

Covering her open mouth in shock, she knelt down next to his unmoving form and examined him more closely. The most obvious injury was the gaping wound in his chest. Something, or someone, had burned a hole in his torso. This Birdy could tell from the scorch marks on what was left of his shirt. From his neck to his waist was open flesh, wet and red. His abdomen was a mass of packed muscle but she could tell it was his chest that had taken the full force of the blast. Absently, she wondered who would use such a weapon on another person. Pink tissue was exposed and Birdy could see it move as he breathed, inflating and deflating with each breath. _His lungs,_ she guessed, trying not to stare for long. Blood pooled in the cavity around the organs and when he took a deep, long breath, crimson ran over the edge of the wound to soak into his clothes and run out over his skin.

Pulling her eyes away from the grotesque picture in front of her, she looked him over for other injuries. As gently as she could, she ran her hands lightly over his legs then came up to his arms. Nothing broken, as far as she could tell. When she reached his shoulders, she looked at his face for the first time. His facial hair was wild and made even more so because it was wet and matted to his face in some places. His sideburns were long and kind of bushy and they reminded Birdy of a style long since out of fashion. His nose looked sharp in the dim light as if it were cut from stone and his dimpled chin was covered in dark stubble. When she reached his eyes she was surprised to find him looking at her and she held her breath as she looked into the dark pools there. He stared unblinking and Birdy wasn't sure he was really seeing her. Remembering his injuries, not that she could forget, she finally spoke to him.

"You got a big hole in your chest," Birdy said quietly, not quite believing the words. She felt silly stating an obvious fact that he probably already knew or probably didn't want to know since it seemed it would likely be the end of him very soon. His jaw moved as he tried to speak and Birdy shook her head to discourage him from talking.

"I gotta call an ambulance. I'll be back," she said and moved to get up when his hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. She looked at his hand, then his face and saw that he was trying to speak again. This time when he opened his mouth to talk, instead of words being formed by the force of air passing over his larynx, dark red blood spilled out of his mouth and he coughed, choking on the fluid.

Birdy inhaled worriedly, "Oh no," she swallowed. "Don't worry, I'll come right back." She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze to reassure him but he held tight to her arm. Those dark orbs of his never left Birdy's bright blues and they begged him to see reason.

His throat was working, trying to swallow and he was finally able to speak. "No," was all he could manage.

"But you'll die!" Birdy insisted.

He shook his head weakly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he found hers again and spoke, this time with complete assurance, "No."

_A/N: Thanks for reading. Please leave a few comments on what you did/did not like. I'm trying to find my voice again and I love people who know how to leave constructive reviews! More to come...stay tuned!_


	2. Chapter 2

"…and Found" Chapter 2

Uncertainty enveloped Birdy. This man, broken and bleeding, didn't want her to leave but if she didn't get help to him he would surely die. It was a miracle he was even conscious with such an incredible injury. Worry knitted her brow as she looked about for someone to call out to. If she could get someone to call nine-one-one for her, she would be able to stay here with him until help arrived. Looking back down at him she saw the pain work its way across his face with every staggering breath.

Automatically, she began to rub the man's hand that held onto her arm, trying to give him some small amount of comfort. They stayed like that for long minutes until Birdy's arm was free of his grasp. The man began to stir, picking himself up to lean towards her. Nearly rolling over prone, he got his hands under himself and pushed up, bringing his body up onto his hands and knees. Birdy scooted back giving him room to maneuver but still close enough to help if he needed assistance. Not that her comparatively small frame would be much help to his massive body but she wanted to be ready to try.

The man's arms shook with the effort of maintaining his balance like this and as he did so, the blood poured from his wound onto the already stained sidewalk. It ran out of him steadily in streams and heavy drips like a leaky faucet that was passed the point of a simple tightening. As he brought his feet forward to stand, Birdy too, got up and hooked her arms around one, big bicep, determined to help. He wavered for a moment, doubled over at the waist with his hands on his knees, and spat blood before straightening as much as he could. Pain caused a ferocious grimace on his face and for the first time Birdy caught a glimpse of a set of fang-like teeth, now stained bloody. She quickly looked away as her mind began adding and processing all she had seen about this stranger. A low, gruff sound pulled her from her thoughts.

"Car?" he managed to grind out and she looked up at him with a confirming nod of her head.

"It's just over there," she said, pointing off in the distance. His eyes followed where she directed and he saw a little sports car parked under the orange glow of a street lamp. He jerked his head back and Birdy took this as indication to bring the vehicle to him. She gave a quick nod before letting go of his arm. When she was sure he wasn't going to topple down to the ground she turned and ran to the car.

Once she got there, having left her keys inside, she punched in the security code to unlock the doors. Absently, she noted the blood smearing on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as she got in. Fumbling to open the center console, she finally pulled the keys from their hiding place and shoved them into the ignition. The car came to life as Birdy shut the door and she put the car in gear. The empty street allowed her to whip the car around in an illegal u-turn and she turned again to bring the passenger side along the sidewalk.

Remarkably, the man had made it to the curb on his own and was now using a parking meter for support. Birdy got out and quickly opened the door for him. The way he ambled sluggishly made Birdy think of those old, creepy zombie flicks that had gone out of style for the more favorable fast-moving zombie movies. Reflexively, she shuttered. It was never a good idea to think about zombies when one was out alone in the middle of the night. Once he reached the car, Zombie-man sagged against it to catch his breath. He leaned to one side and started to shake his arm and Birdy reached for him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she gently chided, trying to keep him upright. But she had misinterpreted his actions.

Slowly he shook his head and whispered, "Off," swinging one arm. Comprehension clicked and Birdy realized he wanted his coat taken off. She pulled delicately at the wet garment, trying to cause as little discomfort as possible. Frowning to herself she wondered why this guy was more concerned with getting his coat off rather than high-tailing it to the nearest trauma center. Finally, she was able to pull the sodden jacket of animal skins from his broad shoulders. As soon as he was free, he ducked down and shoved himself into the car, collapsing into the leather bucket seat. Before she could close the door, he reached out and took the coat from Birdy. By the time she'd gotten back into the driver's side, he had the jacket balled and pressed against the wound in his chest.

"Where to now?" Birdy asked, breaking the awkward silence they had found themselves in. Awkward because not five minutes ago this large and quiet man had dragged himself from the Hudson River, bleeding and near death, only to refuse medical treatment in favor of…_in favor of what?_ Birdy thought silently. She glanced over at the man in question in the passenger seat. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be breathing a little better than before but he still kept his wadded jacket clutched tightly against the hole in his chest. He made no acknowledgement that he had even heard her question.

"Is there someone I can take you to? A friend maybe? Or…I dunno…a doctor or something?" Again, no sign of having heard so Birdy figured he may have slipped into unconsciousness. _Hell's bells. What now?_ If he died in her car, the solution would be simple enough. She'd just go to an emergency room and tell them what happened. But right now he was still breathing and she had to figure out what to do with him.

She heard him take a deep, wheezy breath and he whispered, "Home."

"Home? Okay, but you gotta tell me where," she said.

His head rocked side to side, telling her 'no.' His eyes were still closed and she could tell he was struggling with a great deal of pain. He opened them fractionally to look at her, "Your home."

"_My home?"_ she asked, her voice ratcheting up nervously. "I don't have a home here. I'm just visiting." A partial truth. "I've got a hotel room in the city, that's it. And not for much longer, either."

His eyes were closed again when he nodded approval, "Your home."

"But…" she stopped on the verge of protesting. She couldn't whine about the situation, not to him. It wasn't fair. For either of them. He didn't want to be bleeding in some strange girl's car, quite possibly dying with her whining like a punished teenager and she didn't want to get mixed up with whatever dealings had landed him mangled in the river.

Another deep breath before he spoke. "Just need rest," he stated slowly, grinding the words out carefully. He would need more than rest to recover from this, Birdy was sure.

_Fudge cake,_ Birdy swore mentally. She sighed as she directed the car toward New York City and back to her hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

"…and Found" Chapter 3

Navigating the big city streets was easy enough for Birdy, having had grown up in New York City during at least part of her youth. It also helped that at this late hour the streets were relatively empty of cars and pedestrians. While stopped at a red light, she checked on her passenger to find that he was looking and sounding a little better. He hadn't coughed up blood for a good ten minutes and he seemed to be sitting with less tension in his body. Maybe a little rest was all he needed.

Birdy wondered about what that could mean as the light turned green and she continued on to the hotel where she was staying. Tracing her line of thought concerning the man, she considered all the facts about him she knew. Number one, he was big. Like linebacker big. When she'd had a hold on his arm while helping him up, she felt like she was lifting a boulder. Number two, he had fangs or what had looked like fangs in the dim light.

_Oh!_ Birdy thought, _maybe he's a vampire!_ She chuckled a little at that but dismissed it. Mutants existing was almost too much for normal people to accept, vampires would send them over the edge. Checking off another observation on her list, the black claw-like fingernails on his hands reminded her of a large predatory animal. Like something akin to a bear or a jungle cat. And the biggest red flag of all…he prevented her from entering his mind telepathically! It had really shocked Birdy at the time but she didn't have the chance to dissect what that meant. No one had ever denied her entry before and she puzzled over how he could have even known what she was doing and why he wouldn't let her in.

Turning left down a one-way street Birdy nudged her sleeping companion. "Hey. Gotta wake up now," she said, patting his thigh to get his attention. "We're almost there."

The stranger blinked rapidly, orienting himself and he grunted as he shifted in his seat. He pulled back an edge of his makeshift bandage to check the wound. He replaced the compress and looked at Birdy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him looking at her and she allowed herself a second to look at him. She smiled softly before looking back at the road ahead.

"The hotel's two block up on the right. If you can get out and walk, I can try to help. Don't worry about anyone seeing you. I'll take care of that," she said with complete confidence. "Think you can do it?" she asked, hoping he'd say yes. Otherwise she'd have to enlist in some help. Not exactly a problem but it would save her the trouble of performing a mind wipe.

He barely nodded as he said, "Yeah." Birdy was satisfied with his answer and nodded in kind.

"Okay. Let's do this and get you upstairs," she stated, trying to find the nerve to covertly smuggle a half-dead, (possible) mutant into a four-star hotel in the middle of the night in New York City.

*****

Astonished at her own ability, Birdy was able to track four distinctive thought signatures as she and her bundle made their way through the lobby to the elevator bank. Once she was able to usher him into the private elevator for her floor, she wiped the short term memories of their entrance from the staff's mind, effectively covering their tracks, at least, in that way. The only thing she couldn't have avoided were the bloody, muddy footprints the man's boots left as he stumbled through the lobby.

The elevator signaled their arrival to the fourteenth floor with a cheery ding and Birdy directed the hulk to her door at the end of the hall. Luckily, she noticed, whatever mess that was on the soles of his shoes had worn off by the time they started walking on the carpet. No good trying to sneak around when a trail of footprints could lead someone right to your door…literally.

The man leaned heavily against the wall as Birdy dug her keycard from her bag. The lock granted her access and she pushed the door open into the dark hotel room. She reached in and flipped a light switch before holding the door open for him to stagger through. Inside, she tossed her purse and key on the counter of the suite's kitchenette and walked passed the man to turn on more lights. She turned to ask him what he needed but he answered her before she had a chance.

"I need protein. Red meat. And a shower." He stopped to take a breath. "Where?"

"Through here," she pointed to the left. He pushed off the wall where he had propped himself up and indicated with a wave that he would follow.

With the man trailing behind her, Birdy lead him through the living area, through a set of double door and into the master bedroom, turning the lights on as she entered. To the right was a doorway that opened into a huge bathroom with marble and glass from floor to ceiling. He walked passed Birdy into the bathroom, dropping his balled up, bloody jacket into the large, jetted tub in the corner. Birdy stood in the doorway, thinking she'd stay close by in case she was needed. As she watched him she realized he was moving with more assurance than he had before. Miraculously, he seemed to be gaining strength. He shed what was left of his shirt and tossed it in the tub to join his coat.

Birdy pointed out the soaps and towels then left him to his cleaning, adding, "I'll get you something to eat from room service," as she turned away. She went over to the nightstand and, sitting on the bed, called down to the concierge desk to have some men's toiletries sent up from the gift shop even though at this hour it was closed to guests. Having access to things like that was just one of the perks of staying at this hotel for a guest of her stature. A second call to room service had Birdy ordering three large steak dinners and some bottled waters. She didn't know if he would want to eat that much or if that wasn't enough. They could always order more if need be.

As she hung up the phone she caught a glimpse of the man bracing himself against the shower wall under the spray of the water by way of the enormous vanity mirror. His large hands splayed against the white tile, the tanned skin slick and glistening with moisture. Steam floated and coiled over the top of the glass enclosure as the water hit his body. It ran over his shoulders and down his sculpted back. Birdy smiled wryly as her view of his backside became obscured by condensation on the shower door. He turned and let the water pound on his shoulders as he rolled them. He worked his neck, left then right, stretching the muscles there. Birdy could make out his chest wound as a reddish-pink expanse reflected in the mirror. She quickly looked away not wanting to be caught in her voyeuristic act and left the bedroom giving him some privacy. His eyes followed her as she pulled the double doors shut behind her.

Out in the living area, Birdy clicked on the television for background noise, punching in the numbers for one of the cable news channels and lowered the volume. There was a quick knock at the door. Birdy crossed the room and checked the viewer. A slim, young man with a messy head of hair stood outside the door in a hotel staff uniform, holding a small brown bag. She opened the door and the kid smiled a greeting and made a bit of small talk. He handed her a receipt for her to sign for the purchase which she did with a scribble. Birdy took the bag and smiled, a simple goodnight ending their exchange. She closed the door in his smiling face knowing he was still thinking about her breasts and how much of one he could fit into his mouth.

There was no answer when she lightly knocked on the bedroom door so she cracked it a bit to check if it was alright for her to enter. The shower was off and she heard no protest so she walked in and headed for the bathroom doorway. She stopped and knocked on the jamb as her guest was drying around his chest gingerly. He looked up from his task, no trace of embarrassment on his face. Doing her level best to maintain eye contact and not let her eyes stray across his body, Birdy offered the bag of toiletries.

"Should be some razors and shaving cream in here. Toothbrush, paste and maybe a comb. I thought you might want to have them to clean up with," she explained, holding the bag out at arm's length. His eyes moved from the bag to her face and back again. Birdy pulled the bag back when she concluded he wasn't going to take it from her and she set it on the counter.

"I'll just leave this here for…ah, you to, ah, use….when you're ready." She felt ridiculous stammering like she was, trying to keep herself from ogling his bare body, his towel draped over one hand near his chest.

"You good with that towel?" she forced herself to ask, trying to maintain a single train of thought.

He observed her carefully and picked up on her discomfort immediately. Squelching a smirk, he answered her with a deep and quiet, "Yes." The lone syllable hit Birdy right in the chest, the thrum of the word spreading through her body.

"Well," she started, "I'll just…uh…leave you to it, then?" She was ready to leave the room and distance herself from this man because her body was responding for reasons she couldn't immediately explain. Not to herself, not to anyone. She turned to leave before remembering to add, "Oh, and your…uh, meat, will be up in a bit. Hope three's enough?"

"Perhaps." Again, his smooth one-word answer shot right through her. Birdy willed her body to remain impassive but couldn't guarantee herself she would listen so she exited the room more quickly than was necessary, again pulling the bedroom door shut behind her.

On the other side of the doors, Birdy shook herself, trying to ditch the odd behavior she had taken over while talking to the man. _Doofus!_ she chided herself, flopping down on the sofa. She closed her eyes and wondered how she found herself in such a peculiar situation.

At some point she faded into a light sleep until a heavy knock accompanied by a muffled but jovial "Room service!" sounded at the door. Birdy got up and, again, checked the viewfinder before opening the door. Sometimes it was just easier to do things the way normal people did them than trying to telepathically scan everyone she came in contact with. Plus, opening up her mind in a large place like a hotel, filled with other people, flooded her with more information than she could process. She'd blacked out trying stuff like that when she was younger and had learned it was easier, sometimes, to just open the door.

An older black man greeted Birdy warmly. "Hullo, Miss B! How you doing this night?" His heavy island accent tinting his words.

"I'm good, George. You?" she asked amicably. Birdy liked George. He was an honest and pleasant man who never wondered about her breasts. At least, not when he was around her where she could pick up his stray thoughts. He pushed his metal cart loaded with stainless steel covered dishes into the room as he spoke.

"Oh, you know. I work so I doing good."

"Well, that's good to hear," Birdy said, complimenting George's work ethic.

"Yes ma'am, yes ma'am. Now we got tree steak dinners here, yes?" he asked as he set each platter on the dining table.

"Yep. You brought me the biggest and best in town, right?" Birdy asked playfully.

"Oh, yes, Miss B. These all come from big, big cows. You'll like. Believe me," he assured her.

"Oh, I do George," she said as he finished setting her order on the table.

"Only the best for our sweetest, nicest guest. I tell you the truth," he said, handing her the receipt, smiling. Birdy scribbled her signature and handed the slip of paper back to George. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome, George. You have a good night," Birdy said, following him as he pushed his cart out of the room.

"I will, Miss B. Now you call if you want us to take away the plates, okay?"

"Okay, I sure will," Birdy promised.

"All right then. Night night," George said as he gave a short wave and pushed his cart down the hall. Birdy closed the main door and was heading to the bedroom to let her guest know his meal had arrived when the door opened suddenly. Birdy stopped short having been within reach if the door knob, the sudden appearance of the large man startling her. Her quick intake of breath drew his eyes down to where she was, his form towering over her. She smiled quickly to cover her surprise and waved to the dining table behind her.

"Food's here," she announced unnecessarily, watching his eyes move from her face to the table. Birdy couldn't help but notice how clean smelling he was standing so close to her. She also noticed how he'd availed himself of the toiletries she'd given him by shaving the stubble from his chin and neck and combing his wet hair back away from his face. Birdy realized immediately she might have to find him some clothing tomorrow. As it was now he was dressed only in a bath towel, wrapped around his hips. From there she saw the wound that covered his torso had begun to fill in more of the damaged tissue. And unlike before where when she found him his abdomen was stripped down to the muscle, now there was a fresh patch of pinkish-tan flesh complete with a belly button and a dusting of hair.

His chest, however, still had a ways to go. An extremely thin layer of skin barely covered the pectoral muscles of his chest and the variations in color could be seen. Birdy could plainly make out exactly where the muscle attached to his sternum in the middle of his chest. She quelched the sick taste in her mouth as he brushed passed her for the table.

He sat down and pulled a covered dish towards himself and Birdy walked around to sit on the opposite side of the table, the position offering her a view of the television if their conversation stalled. He unrolled a set of silverware from its napkin and got to work on the first slab of meat, pushing the broccoli and baked potato to the edges of the plate. Birdy watched as he cut great hunks of red beef from the steak and brought them to his mouth to eat. Realizing that her watching him might come across as rude, she busied herself with getting him a drink. She reached for the large bottle of water and a glass already filled with ice, removing the plastic film from the top of the glass. She poured the water from the bottle into the glass and slid it across the table to sit in front of his plate.

"Here ya go," she said. He thanked her with a nod of his head and stopped chewing to take a large draw of water from the glass. She watched him thoughtfully, wondering if she should try to read his mind again. Normally, she wouldn't have hesitated but this was an uncommon circumstance and she wasn't sure how she should approach it. Finally deciding to go for it, she opened up her mind, letting her power drift out to him. Gently she probed the area around him, feeling about for the signature that only he possessed. After a minute, when only his presence could be found, she nudged a little more, pressing where she felt him. The same resistance she'd encountered at the river greeted her and she pushed harder. So completely engrossed in her task she failed to notice the man had stopped eating, fork in hand midway to his mouth, and was staring at her with an unpleasant look on his face.

"You don't take a hint, do ya?" Birdy snapped back to awareness almost audibly as he stared at her, his brows raised in question. Shock and embarrassment colored her face. She stammered for a few seconds before making her apology.

"It's just that I've never met anyone who could…" she stopped and grasped for a word to describe her inability to read his mind.

"'Shield'?" he supplied. She brightened at his answer.

"Yeah. I guess you could call it that." Birdy leaned forward, her faux pas forgotten, relishing the idea of a discussion about her mutant power. She'd never shared the knowledge of her ability with anyone and to finally find someone to simply talk about it with excited her. She suspected he was a mutant also. It certainly hadn't escaped her attention that his severe wound was healing at an accelerated rate. Plus, his physical features alone screamed 'mutant.' The dark, pupil-less eyes, the claws, the fangs. She wondered what other differences he had beyond what she could see. All this, combined with the fact that he had been able to block her from reading his mind, convinced Birdy that he was like her. An outcast. A mutant.

By now the man had moved on to his second steak and Birdy was reluctant to disturb him. Her lack of courage didn't last long.

"What's your name?" He looked at her, still chewing his food. She simply smiled and waited for an answer.

He swallowed the food in his mouth and took a drink of water before answering. He cleared his throat and said, "Victor." He rolled his shoulders again like he had in the shower and popped the joints in his neck.

Still smiling, Birdy nodded once and replied in kind. "Birdy."

A shaggy eyebrow quirked. "'Birdy'?" he asked to confirm what she'd said. Birdy chuckled at his reaction.

"Yeah. What of it?" She didn't mind his amusement. She'd gotten used to people's varied reactions to her nickname. Her smile told him this much. He smiled back ruefully, shaking his head and as if it was a joke only he knew.

Victor looked Birdy in the eyes quite solemnly and said, "Thank you." He wasn't accustomed to needing or wanting the help of others. Even though he would have survived without her help, he was glad to have had it. She hadn't recoiled in horror when he reached for her back at the river. There was no trace of fear in her then and there wasn't now. And from what he could tell she wasn't disgusted by his injury or the healing he'd been able to do, either. Normal humans would like to think the ability to heal would be a great gift but if any one of them spontaneously healed after a major injury, they, no doubt, would have a serious freak out.

Still looking at the blonde sitting across from him he noted she was young, probably in her mid-twenties so not too young as to be a turn-off. And she certainly was pretty enough. Warm golden hair framing a picture-perfect face set with the clearest blue eyes Victor had ever seen. She was one of the lucky ones. Outwardly, she could pass for a normal human. Nothing about her appearance would make anyone think she was anything other than what she appeared to be. Not only did she have the looks but her ability of telepathy was one of the more desirable powers. At least, desirable to him. Victor himself knew of only two telepaths in the world and he had never met either.

"It was nothing," she said, bringing him back. She dipped her head when she smiled and he could see her cheeks redden. A girl like this, unused to a compliment? Maybe it was the sincerity that came with it that made her blush. Reading minds, day in and day out, she would always know if someone was lying to her. Although he was sure she couldn't read him, his mental barriers in place, she knew he had spoken with absolute clarity.

"I'll let you finish. I should get ready for bed." Birdy stood, pushing away from the table. "I've kind of had an…exciting night."

"Sure thing," he replied, watching her circle around the table and pass by him.

Birdy went into the bedroom and picked up a gift box that was sitting on the dresser. She opened the package and ran her finger along the lace edging of the garment inside. Picking up the contents of the box, she headed for the bathroom.

*****

Victor finished stacking the last of his dishes on the counter in the small kitchen area. He stood there for a moment, breathing deeply, feeling the newly formed skin across his chest pull with a tightness coupled with a burning sensation. He resisted the urge to scratch or rub at it, the skin still too tender and raw Walking out of the kitchenette, he turned the light off and walked over to stand by the sofa. He picked up the remote for the television and turned up the volume to listen to the recycled newscast.

The news puppets were reciting dialogue with such excitement, relaying the few nuggets of facts they had from the events of the evening. They reported there had been a bizarre explosion that came from the Statue of Liberty but there was minimal damage on the scene. Unfortunately, several guards had been found dead. The supposed explosion had also disrupted the United Nations Summit at Ellis Island, but no one in attendance had been injured. Victor grew tired of the rehashing of events that he'd been a participant in. He flicked the television off and walked into the bedroom looking to snag a pillow from the bed so he could sleep on the sofa. No need to put the girl out of her bed when he could manage elsewhere. He had slept in less hospitable places before. Birdy was crossing the bedroom from the bathroom when he walked in.

"Need anything?" she asked, hanging her black dress in the armoir. She had changed into a set of pink silk pajammas. The thin straps of the camisole top showing off her slender shoulders, the little shorts exposing her perfectly toned thighs. Victor couldn't help but look.

"Just coming to get a pillow," he said, rolling his shoulders again. He reached to take one from the head of the bed.

"Have a seat," Birdy instructed him, motioning for him to sit on the edge of the bed. He gave her a questioning look. "You keep trying to crack your spine," she said by way of answering. "I can help you out with that." She patted the mattress then held her hands up, waggling her fingers. "I give pretty good massages."

At this point, Victor was just too damn exhausted to decline the offer and figured after the night he'd had, he was owed one. He came around to the foot of the bed where Birdy was and sat down, dropping the pillow to the floor. Birdy got behind him on her knees and placed her hands on his broad shoulders. His skin was warm to her touch and she could feel the play of his muscles under her palms. She began to gently kneed his shoulders, keeping the motions even and soothing, mindful not to press too hard. Working quietly she could feel him start to relax, his posture drooping slightly. She, too, found herself starting to relax, the events of the last couple of hours catching up to her.

She rubbed her hands down his arms and back up to his shoulders then pressing down the length of his spine. His body moved as he took a deep breath and he let his head fall forward. Birdy took this as a sign and started back up, massaging near the base of his neck. She thought she heard him groan lightly as he exhaled and she smiled. Birdy continued working his shoulders and upper back and she leaned into her motions just a bit, inhaling his scent.

Warmth and soap was all she could find but it filled her body with a quick electric spark. He groaned again under her hands and she leaned into him, a little heavier this time, trying to encourage him. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. He was essentially a stranger to her and more than likely, he had the power to cause her great bodily harm. The way he shielded himself from her telepathic powers left her virtually defenseless if he decided to turn on her. But, she reasoned, if that was ever his intention, surely he would have tried already.

Pressing on him once more, she let her body brush against his back, her hands coming over his shoulders to rub down his chest. She could feel the hair of his chest through her fingers and where the injury had been the skin was notably warmer there. Another groan, this one deeper, and as Birdy pulled her body back she let her lips pass his ear and she exhaled slowly. His groan rumbled again and Birdy cocked her head, a confused look on her face.

She shook his shoulders lightly, calling his name. He groaned in response and Birdy realized he was asleep. She giggled quietly and stepped off the bed to stand in front of him. His head was hanging down, his chin nearly touching his chest and his face obscured by his long hair. Birdy knelt in front of him, her hands on his knees.

"Hey, buddy. Wake up," she said, shaking his knees a little. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes slowly. Birdy smiled at him and said, "Do me a favor. Lie back before you fall forward."

Without a word he turned and crawled to the head of the bed, collapsing on top of the covers. Birdy got up and turned off the rest of the lights, slipping under the covers next to him, deciding that the king-sized bed would be big enough for both of them.


	4. Chapter 4

"…and Found" Chapter 4

Birdy was fully awake when she opened her eyes the next morning. Not a trace of sleepiness was left, she was ready to get up and get moving. Looking to her right she saw that Victor was still asleep but had found his way under the covers during the night. She watched as he slept, his lungs taking in long, slow draws of air, his face relaxed. Glancing at the clock she figured she'd gotten a good six hours of sleep. Lifting the covers gently so as not to wake Victor, Birdy got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

*****

Victor greeted the morning slowly, yawning and stretching to get any leftover kinks out. He looked around the darkened room, noting that the heavy curtains were still drawn keeping the morning sun at bay. The only light came from the bathroom where he could see his young hostess in the mirror. She was leaning over the counter to get as close to the mirror as possible. Probably perfecting make-up or plucking an eyebrow, whatever it was that women needed to see _that closely_ in a mirror. He let himself look her over, following the line of her back down over the curve of her bottom. The fact that she was wearing clothes did nothing to deter his thoughts or imagination. If nothing else, the snug sweater and tight blue jeans aided the vision.

Birdy finished up her morning routine with one last flick across her eyelash. She turned off the light as she left the bathroom, her heeled boots resonating on the tiled floor. The sound dulled on the carpeting as she passed through the bedroom to the living area. Victor closed his eyes and enjoyed the memory of her shape and drew in a deep breath, bringing her scent to him. He ignored the obvious smells of soap, lotion and perfume that helped to mask her true scent and filled his senses with her. Methodically, he picked through the layers until he reached the warm, salty flavor that only she emitted. Holding it, he began to create a memory to associate it with and he turned up his hearing, reaching out for the sounds that only Birdy made. The way her strands of hair rustled as she moved, the weight of her step as she walked, the sound of air being pushed and pulled through her lungs. All of this he combined with the visual cues and her scent and filed it into his memory. He didn't know if this would be something he would ever need to reference after today, but it was always good to keep a file on everyone he met. It kept him prepared and prevented others from having even the slightest advantage. The memory of Birdy now saved, he continued to listen in as she rummaged around the suite, keeping busy.

Suddenly, a cell phone rang out an obnoxious techno beat and Victor winced at the shrill noise, turning his hearing down. Birdy's voice happily answered the call.

"Well, good morning to you, too! How was your flight?" Victor could hear her walk across the room, the fabric of her clothes rustling, the minute strain of the sofa coils bending as she sat.

"Oh, you know I do, Mitchell! Don't be so silly!" Birdy flirted mercilessly with her caller. She giggled and chatted, prompting Victor to turn his hearing up more to gain access to conversation.

"It's all your fault for leaving, then," she said with mock seriousness.

"_You know you're my absolute favorite girl, Birdy. I can't stand being away from you for so long. I want you to know that. It's the absolute truth."_ Mitchell's smooth, British accent came through the phone clear as a bell for Victor.

"I know," Birdy replied. "I just wish you didn't have to go. Did you make it back for your meeting on time?"

"_Yes, yes. So important and so very boring. All I could think of the whole time was you in your little pink pajamas with your ankles by my ears, love. Please tell me you wore them last night and thought of me."_

"I did," she lied easily. "They made me feel incredibly sexy."

"_Oh, that can't be. You don't need a thing to be sexy. You'd be sexy in a brown paper sack! Maybe next time I'll bring one of those just so I can tear it off that perfectly sexy body of yours."_

"Wouldn't that be fun?" Birdy asked breathlessly. She cranked up the charm for this one and Victor could tell her heart rate and body temperature had both increased slightly. "How long do I have to wait for that?"

"_I'm trying to swing a visit in a few weeks but we'll see…"_

Victor pulled his senses back and left Birdy to her phone call. The conversation had made him wonder but he quickly put all the clues together. He frowned to himself. _Waste of a pretty telepath._ He exhaled, deciding he had no business getting involved. The top of his list had him getting out of New York and back to work. He doubted he'd get the rest of his money from Lensherr but that was why he'd insisted on a two-thirds payment up front. He didn't completely buy into Magneto's vision of mutant superiority but that didn't mean he couldn't be persuaded. Victor didn't care either way so long as he could continue on doing what he did. It was easy enough for him to move onto the next thing.

Finally deciding to get out of bed, Victor stretched before lowering himself to the floor. He made quick work of three sets of push-ups, working the muscles of his chest, encouraging blood flow. Once finished, he fished his towel out from under the covers, wrapped it around his hips and headed to the bathroom.

*****

The smell of bacon drifted in from the living area and Victor, still sporting the white terrycloth towel, made a bee-line for the dining table. Birdy was already seated, casually flipping through the newspaper while she rolled a grape on her plate under her fingers. She looked up when he sat and gave him a genuine smile.

"Morning," she said brightly and he greeted her with a nod. He reached for a covered dish and found an enormous pork-based breakfast. Strips of crispy bacon, sausage links and patties, and a ham steak, all fighting for room on the plate. A bright, yellow mound of eggs finished off the dish. Victor dug into the meal with voracity, not realizing how hungry he was. The sustenance from last night's meal had been completely used up to heal his body. Birdy watched him curiously for a moment before offering to pour him a drink.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said after swallowing a mouthful of eggs. Birdy flipped a mug and poured him a cup. She pointed to the little packets of sugar and containers of cream. "No, thanks," he said, answering her query. Birdy went back to her paper as he took the mug. After a few minutes, she spoke.

"I was thinking I'd go out and get you something to wear."

Victor nodded, "Okay."

"If you wanna write down your sizes I can go now and be back before I have to check out." Birdy slid a pen and pad of paper with the hotel's logo on it across the table to him.

"Sure." Another simple reply.

Victor picked up the pen, his large fingers curling around it, claws sticking out awkwardly. Somehow he managed. Birdy watched him, mulling over the questions in her head she was anxious to ask. "So, what can you do exactly?"

Victor stopped writing to look at her. "What can I do?" His brow creased at her question. " Or what are my mutant powers?"

Birdy smiled and rephrased her question completely oblivious to, or ignoring, his subtext. "What are your powers?"

"You're the telepath, you tell me." He was playing with her now, she knew.

"Well, although you won't let me read your mind, I can tell you've got some kind of super-accelerated healing ability. You have claws for fingernails. And you have some teeth that are…" She paused, not wanting to insult him. "…pointy?" she finished weakly.

"Anything else?" he asked, a little amused.

"Yeah. You've got the most incredible eyes I've ever seen." Birdy said this wholly fascinated, looking right into the pupil-less depths. He held her gaze, then, letting her get her fill. She smiled and blinked, breaking eye contact. "Is that about it?"

"Nearly. I have heightened senses. Sight, smell…" he paused so she might catch the undercurrent of meaning, "…hearing. But these are my favorite," he said, splaying one palm flat on the table, his claws lightly tapping the surface.

"What do they do?" Birdy asked, wonder filling her voice.

He bowed his head a fraction, lowering his voice, building the suspense. He could hear her heart beat increase in rhythm, rushing blood throughout her body. Victor made sure his voice was deep and dark, knowing the reaction he would get from her.

"Whatever I tell them to do."

Birdy very, nearly shivered.

She looked at the heavy digits before looking at his face. Slowly, a smile crept up on her. "You're teasing me! Aren't you?" She was tickled, enjoying their dramatic interplay.

"Not at all," he said with complete sincerity. Birdy saw him make a small flexing motion with his fingers and watched each claw grow longer and more curved as it left the sheathing of his fingertips.

"Oh my goodness," Birdy whispered, reaching out to almost touch them. She looked to his face to see if he would object to her touch but his eyes were following her hand as it moved slowly across the table. Birdy's own pink-painted nails came in contact with his thick, dark claws and they made a faint clack as they came together. She moved fractionally closer, her fingertips brushing over the knuckles of his fingers and sliding back down lightly to caress the curved nails. Her fingers slipped under his hand and turned it slowly, allowing his palm to face up. She let her hand drift over his palm and she could feel the rough areas where calluses had formed over time. Each of her fingers traced over each of his and she let the points of his claws catch on her fingertips before sliding away. Birdy drew her hand back to her side of the table, her thumb touching to the other fingers, remembering together the contact they'd shared.

Victor pulled his hand back, the claws retracting smoothly and picking up his fork he resumed eating. Birdy watched him. Her assumption of his claws being like that of a bear's was pretty well on the money. She didn't doubt that they could do the same kind of damage, either. Birdy did shiver this time. It didn't take a lot of imagination to know what those claws could do. Excitement and fright swirled together, the emotional mix creating a tingle just under the surface of her skin.

_Whatever I tell them to do._ Victor's husky words echoed in her ears and Birdy had to shake her head to clear it of the thoughts she could extrapolate from that simple phrase.

"I should probably get going," Birdy announced, tearing herself away from her thoughts. "Check out's at noon and I still have to pack." She got up from her place at the table, reaching for the notepad she had given to Victor. Without looking over what he'd written, she dropped it into her large, brown shoulder bag. "If you think you'll want something more to eat, just call room service and charge it." He nodded without looking up, so she headed for the door. "Oh, I almost forgot. Is there any color in particular you don't want? Just in case?"

He stopped eating for a second, obviously giving her question thought, before replying. "Orange."

Birdy suppressed a little smile and acknowledged his answer. "Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that she was out the door.

*****

After finishing off two more breakfast platters, Victor tidied the dishes and set them on the wheeled cart that Room Service had used to bring them up. He pushed the cart into the hall and called for someone to come and retrieve it. Having already showered the night before and with nothing else to do, he settled himself on the sofa in the living area and flipped on the television. He scrolled through the on-screen menu and selected a 24-hour news channel. He noted with some dismay that they were still going on about last night's mysterious light show from Liberty Island. Reporters confirmed authorities had one mutant in custody but would not give further details. The statue itself was damaged with two holes ripped into its head.

Victor snarled at the memory. He had gotten overconfident in his ability to handle Wolverine. Apparently, his old friend was just as capable as ever of holding his own in a knockout fight. And hadn't Magneto said that Xavier's students were unprepared for a confrontation? Nevertheless, Victor reminded himself, he should have been more alert and cognizant of how events were playing out at the time. Lesson number one…never underestimate your opponent.

It also seemed to Victor that 'The Wolverine' didn't even recognize him. Had he been _that_ traumatized after their stint in the Weapon X program that he had forgotten _everything_? Victor frowned. He would have liked to have been able to forget his past and the demons that came with it.

Victor continued to watch the news for a little while longer until the repetition of the broadcast bored him. He decided to make use of the desktop computer in the corner of the room. He still had business to take care of. Sitting in the desk chair he turned on the computer and waited for it to start up.

*****

Victor finished his Internet surfing and was back to watching TV when Birdy finally returned during the Showcase Showdown on _The Price Is Right_. He heard the distinctive whirr-click of the room's doorlock.

"Hey," she said by way of greeting, her hands full of shopping bags.

"Hey," Victor replied in kind. He followed her into the bedroom wondering why she had so many bags when all he was expecting was a shirt, some pants and a pair of shoes.

"I know it looks like a lot. Maybe it is. But I wasn't really sure what you'd like so I got a few different things figuring you could decide on at least one." She began pulling items out of the bags and laying them on the bed, putting outfits together. At most it looked like she'd gotten him three outfits, all in dark colors. She'd also thought to buy two different kinds of underwear, briefs and boxers, some dress socks and one pair of dark leather shoes. He watched her continue unpacking and noticed she'd also gotten him a duffle bag. It was a little odd but not altogether absurd since she _had_ bought more clothes than was really necessary. When Birdy was finished, she waved with her hand over the display like one of Drew's Beauties and smiled. "Take your pick."

Victor regarded the clothing for a moment. Very GQ. It certainly wasn't what he was used to wearing. The clothes he had taken used to recently were all leather and animal pelts. He felt like it gave him an air of ferocity and said, "I'm one tough dude. Mess with me and I'll make you into a hat." This stuff Birdy had bought was definitely not his usual style. She waited and smiled expectantly and Victor could tell she was anxious for his approval. He looked over his choices, picked up the shoes and outfit closest to him and headed for the bathroom. Birdy made a small sound of triumph and began folding the remaining garments.

When Victor emerged from the bathroom, Birdy was nearly finished with packing her own bag. She neatly folded a pair of jeans, placed them in the luggage and zipped the case closed. Birdy looked up as Victor spoke.

"Whattya think?"

"Oh, nice!" Birdy replied. She walked over to where he stood, looking himself over in a mirror on the wall.

"It fit okay?" he asked, pulling at a sleeve cuff. He had on a dark gray dress shirt with thin, red pinstriping that he'd tucked into a pair of black slacks. Birdy ran her hands under his long hair across his shoulders, smoothing out any wrinkles.

"It fits perfect," Birdy assured him, coming around to stand in front of him. She adjusted the collar and finger-pressed it open at the front placket, leaving the top two buttons undone. She stood admiring her speedy shopping skills and nodded. "You look great."

"Yeah?" he asked, not entirely convinced.

"Yeah. Really great." She smiled with pride as he seemed to admire his own reflection. As she watched Victor preening in the mirror, his confidence expounding with every second, Birdy thought she felt the flash of a mental presence but it was gone before she could trace it. It had come and gone so quickly she hadn't even been aware of it until it had vanished. Dismissing the oddity, she returned to her luggage, making sure all the compartments were zipped and secure.

"I put the rest of the clothes in that duffle for you. You can keep it, it's no biggie. Sale item," she said, as if that explained everything. "I just need to return the car to the long term parking lot a few blocks over, come back for these bags and head to the airport. What about you? Do you have some place to go?"

Victor turned to look at her, a half-grin on his face. "Yeah. I'm headin' out to the airport, too. Gotta flight later today."

"Well. Okay, then." This gave Birdy pause. She had found him in such peculiar circumstances the night before but now he had gained self-reliance seemingly overnight. He could tell that she was trying to figure it out.

"I used the computer in the other room to book my ticket," he said by way of answer. "I'm not completely helpless," he finished with a smile.

"Oh. Right." Birdy couldn't help but feel that his last comment was some kind of dig at her. Had she been treating him so delicately? As if he was a child or a sick invalid? Birdy didn't think so. Perhaps that was just his way. She shrugged it off and resumed checking her bags, making sure she wasn't leaving anything behind.

Victor watched her as she opened dresser drawers, double checking that each one was empty. He decided he liked watching her move. She had a fluidity that made each motion look smooth and relaxed. Not like most people who jerked and spasmed through life as though everything they did was part of a lifelong death knell. His time with Magneto's Brotherhood had reminded him of several differences between humans and mutants. Maybe it was because she was a mutant? Mystique had a similar way about her. But where Mystique was a confusing mask of scents, always shifting and changing, Birdy was uncomplicated and singularly simple. Once he had found it, layered beneath the odorous trappings of society, he knew he'd be able to find it anywhere, anytime. He pulled in her scent, letting it soak into him.

Lost in his senses as he was, he hadn't noticed Birdy'd left the room and was now back, brushing around him to get to her luggage. The air stirred with her sweetness and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to refocus his mind.

"You come to New York a lot?" He wanted to distract himself from the swirling thoughts fighting for dominance in his head.

"A couple times a year," he heard her say as she rolled the large case to the living area. He stood stock still, afraid that any movement might upset the delicate balance inside him, his psyche teetering on a precarious edge. He pushed his fear back and followed her out of the bedroom, his newly-acquired duffle in his hand. He set it in the lounge chair before continuing the conversation.

"Business?"

"Sometimes." She was deliberately being vague; a slight chemical change in her scent told him so. Birdy was busy digging in her purse when he asked his next question.

"You a whore?"

Birdy froze and he could see her jaw working as she fought for emotional control. She closed her eyes and opened them to stare right at Victor. "Excuse me?"

"Are you a whore?" he repeated. "That fella you were talking to on the phone this morning? Mitchell? Is he your john? Or do you prefer 'client'?" Victor's voice had taken a dark tone and Birdy couldn't help but think he was being cruel on purpose.

"I really don't see how that's any of your business, Victor," Birdy replied matter-of-factly. She was stunned and hurt that he had made such an assumption of her after all she'd done for him. It didn't matter to Birdy that, yes, she was technically a whore, but he didn't have to say it with such venom. She couldn't think to ask him, the shock of his accusation still new, how he'd known about Mitchell. But her memory answered her, reminding her of his heightened senses, one of those being an increased ability to hear. How much of the conversation had he heard? It shook her sense of privacy that he'd listened in on her phone call. She couldn't help but feel violated. She supposed that's what others might think if they knew she was a telepath. But that didn't make the sting of his words any more bearable.

"I was just wondering if I'd need to pay you for your…services." His comment dripped with sarcasm and he punctuated it with a toothy grin.

Birdy inhaled and exhaled slowly, fighting to keep her voice calm. "No," she said coldly. "You don't need to _pay_ me. I was just trying to _help._" Victor could almost taste her fury, the emotion thickening her scent as it rolled like a blanket of fog to him heavily. They both stood there, Birdy rigid with anger and Victor calmly admiring her. His smile was still present and he shrugged.

Birdy had had enough. What right did he have to judge her? She didn't have to justify her actions to him. She snatched up her bag and headed for the door. "Do me a favor. Don't be here when I get back," she snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Victor chuckled at the door and headed for the phone.

*****

Birdy stalked to the elevator, her boots landing heavy with every step. She grabbed the courtesy phone and punched in the number for the parking valet. Trying her best to conceal the anger in her voice, she requested that her car be waiting for her when she got to the lobby. She confirmed her room number and hung up the phone. Birdy then pushed the button to call the elevator to take her downstairs.

Entering the elevator she found herself on the verge of tears, Victor's words still fresh in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, preventing the escape of any tears that might threaten. Another cleansing breath and Birdy reminded herself that someone like him wasn't worth the trouble. _Too bad I had to go to the trouble to find out,_ Birdy chastised herself.

She didn't know what to expect from him after today. She hadn't thought much of it, really. She was flying home to Los Angeles and he would go his own way. Certainly, she had made no expectations of him beyond that. Their bizarre exchange still skimming the surface of her thoughts, Birdy stepped from the elevator and walked across the lobby to the front entrance. The door swung out and she exited the building, a smile at the ready for the doorman.

"Good afternoon, Miss B. Joe is bringing your car right up. Does this mean you'll be leaving us soon?" The stout doorman smiled warmly at Birdy as she slipped on a pair on sunglasses.

"I sure am, Kenny, sorry to say. Gotta get back home and back to work." In reality, the opposite was true for Birdy. She was going home to relax, her work week now finished.

"Well, we'll miss you for sure. You should think about coming back for the holidays. Nothing like Christmas in New York. The decorations are just spectacular to see."

"I'll see what I can do about that."

"Sure thing, Miss B. Ah, here's Joe now," he said, motioning to the little blue sports car screeching up to the curb. The valet jumped from the car and held the door as Birdy got in the driver's seat. Earlier that morning, while Victor slept, she had called down to the garage and asked them to have the car detailed and ready for her. Since she had taken a cab for her shopping trip after breakfast, she hadn't seen the car yet. She was pleased to find not one speck of blood dotted the tan interior. There was no evidence of last night or her clandestine passenger. She felt a pang of remorse at the memory of helping Victor. She discarded the emotion, not wanting his brazen attitude to bring her down anymore than it already had. Smile still firmly in place, Birdy returned a wave from Kenny and pulled out into traffic.

*****

Birdy thanked the lot attendant and made her way along the sidewalk back to the hotel. She hoped Victor had done as she'd asked and was gone by now. She didn't want some awkward confrontation with him, regardless if an apology was with it or not. Birdy replayed the scene over and over in her head, hurt and embarrassment tinting the memory.

Foot traffic on the sidewalk was light enough that Birdy could walk along at a steady clip without having to push by many people, and she was easily able to block out the thoughts floating around her because she was so consumed with her own. She couldn't understand why Victor's attitude had taken such a dramatic turn. And she didn't know why she cared so much. True, she had invested time and money into his well-being but, more than that, she had shown a genuine concern for him and that was the thanks she got. It simply boiled down to the fact that he had hurt her feelings. She could tell herself she was better than the need to wallow in self pity but it was hard to ignore the desire to do so.

She came to a street corner and waited for the traffic signal to change, allowing her to cross. Other pedestrians had gathered at the corner around Birdy and when they began to cross the street, she mindlessly followed.

Trailing behind the crowd, Birdy wasn't paying attention when a black sport utility vehicle crept into the crosswalk. She looked up just in time before she ran into the right front fender. Birdy frowned and made to move around the offending vehicle when it slowly rolled forward, further blocking her path.

"Hey, jerk! You're parked in a crosswalk!" Birdy glared at the passenger-side window, not able to see through the dark tint. She made to move around the big truck, but the driver inched the vehicle forward a tiny bit, obviously mocking her attempt. She couldn't believe the nerve of this guy! She scrunched up her face angrily, ready to give him a good psi-poke in the head when the window started a slow glide down. She looked into the SUV and saw a familiar face looking back at her. Birdy hid her surprise and asked, "What do _you_ want?"

Behind a pair of mirror-tinted aviators, Victor smiled and motioned for Birdy to get in, "Come on. I'll give you a lift."

"I don't need you to give me a lift. I'm taking a cab."

"Come on. This is cleaner and safer than any cab in the city. Get in."

"My bags are still at the hotel. I'll get my own ride, thanks." Birdy didn't need or want anything from Victor. She was still sulking to herself because of what he'd said earlier and she simply didn't want to be near him.

"Got 'em," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Birdy craned her neck to look into the backseat to see that, sure enough, he had her two pieces of luggage. "Come on. Get in."

Birdy eyed Victor warily. Normally, she would telepathically read a person's mind to find out their intensions. She couldn't do that with Victor. She was faced with the same problem normal people encountered everyday; taking someone at their word.

Seconds ticked by and Victor waited patiently for her reply. As Birdy considered her options another vehicle had pulled up behind Victor's SUV. Since their exchange began, the traffic signal had turned from red to green and the driver behind Victor began blowing his horn, yelling at him to move.

"Well? You're holdin' up progress, kid," Victor told her casually, unconcerned with the annoyed driver behind him. Birdy looked back at the other car then back at Victor.

"Oh, alright," she acquiesced, opening the passenger door and climbing into the vehicle. Her bottom hadn't hit the seat before the tires were squealing on the pavement and Victor was speeding down the narrow street. Birdy reached for the seatbelt, clipped it in place and set her handbag on the floor.

"You took a heckuva chance finding me. What if I'd gone back to my hotel and couldn't find my bags?"

"I guess you're lucky I found ya, then."

"Hm. Right," Birdy said, unconvinced.

"Look. Maybe I might'a said something that was outta line."

"No kiddin'," Birdy said.

"I didn't…" he paused, trying to find a way to explain himself to her. He gave a weary sigh. "I'm just trying to apologize."

"Well, you gotta funny way of sayin' you're sorry." Birdy sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest, pointedly looking out her window.

"I don't get a lot of practice at it," he admitted with some reluctance.

"Apparently." She waited a beat. "I accept."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Your apology," she explained. It hadn't occurred to him she wouldn't accept it because she'd obviously gotten in the car with him.

"Okay, then." Victor wasn't sure why he cared what this girl thought. But he quickly found himself enjoying being in her company again. Perhaps it was the sensory familiarity or the fact that she didn't recoil in horror from him. Or maybe it was just because she was a pretty girl that, whether she knew it or not, was attracted to him. At least physically. It had been a long time since Victor had picked that up from a female. He let himself recall the sense memory of Birdy, letting it warm him like sunshine on a winter morning.

"So, where'd ya get the car?" Birdy asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Rental," he lied, his hands griping the steering wheel a little too tightly. That frightening and familiar feeling had returned but Victor was doing his best to keep his mind shielded and any stray thoughts at bay. Birdy nodded wordlessly, noticing his sudden agitation. He looked as if he were fighting for control but of what and why, Birdy didn't know.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a little worried.

"Yeah," he said shortly. "Idiots on the road today," he lied again, directing her attention away from him. Victor's grip relaxed and he made his way out of the city toward the airport.

"Mind if I turn on the radio?" Birdy asked, wanting something to fill the awkward spaces in their conversation.

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." Birdy clicked on the stereo but kept the volume low. She scanned through the stations until she found something she liked and sat back watching the city pass by.

*****

"I need Terminal B," Birdy informed Victor as they neared the airport entrance.

He nodded once and said, "Me, too." Victor wound his way through the maze of streets and exits that made up the airport before merging smoothly into the proper lane. He pulled up to an automated ticket gate for the parking garage, pushed the button for his parking pass and waited for the security arm to lift. When it did, he nimbly drove through and navigated the path into the parking garage. Victor drove up two levels so they were on the same level as the terminal. He spotted an open parking space near the walkway that they could take to the main building and pulled into it.

Birdy unclipped her seatbelt, grabbed her bag from the floor and hopped out of the vehicle. "Uhm. You do know this is a handicapped space, right?" she said to Victor through the open door, pointing to the blue and white sign in front of the SUV.

"Yeah."

"Ooookay," Birdy replied, a little confused. Victor came around to her side and opened the back door, pulling her bags out and setting them down. He reached in for the duffle Birdy had bought for him and shut the door. Birdy extended the handle on her larger piece of luggage and set the smaller, matching bag on top. She tipped the rolling case and waited for Victor.

"After you," he motioned with his hand to the walkway. Birdy led the way into the terminal, never catching sight that Victor had left the SUV's keys in the ignition and the vehicle owner's body in a crumpled heap behind the back seat.

*****

The list of departing flights flashed on the screen and Birdy double checked her printout. She had ninety minutes to check in, get through security and find her gate. Looking up at the screen again she felt Victor's physical presence behind her and she turned to make her goodbye.

"Well," she started. "It's been… an experience." That much was certain. And if Birdy was being totally honest with herself, she might even say she was just a little sad that her strange adventure was coming to its end. Sure, her life had its share of excitement. She certainly thought of herself as a jet-setter, enjoying the sites the world had to offer on someone else's dime. Flying off to one country or another, collecting stamps in the pages of her passport book always gave her a strange sense of accomplishment. And if she bedded a few disgustingly rich men in the process? Well, she never heard them complain. The idea of going home to her empty apartment and waiting for the phone to ring with the next multi-millionaire calling to say, _"Hey baby, we're goin' to Cabo!"_ just didn't hold the same comfort it once did. If it ever did.

So, it came as some surprise to Birdy when Victor said, "Come with me."

"What?" Had she heard him right?

"Come with me," he repeated, looking down at her with a small smile.

"What? No. I…no, I can't," she opposed. "I'm going home to L.A. I…have things to do." She knew it was a lame excuse the moment it passed over her lips and he could either dismiss or question it. She thought she'd better come up with a reason, quick, before he asked.

"Like?"

Birdy stammered. "Well…just…stuff!" she finished lamely. Not quick enough, apparently. Her heart simply wasn't in it to lie to him. She wanted to go wherever he was going.

"Your stuff can wait. I've already got your ticket," he said, holding up a sheet of paper. Birdy snatched it from him a little too quickly and looked it over. Sure enough, he had purchased a first-class ticket on a flight to Atlanta with her name on it.

"How'd you find out my real name?" She was more than curious since she hadn't shared her full name with him.

"It was on your hotel invoice on the kitchen counter."

"Oh. Well. I don't know. I mean, we just met. Don't you think that's a little, I dunno, odd? To expect me to just drop everything and go somewhere with a complete stranger?" She wanted to scream 'yes!' to his offer but the voice of reason inside her head warned her that taking off with a person whose last name she didn't even know might not be the smartest thing to do. That's how you got a segment on _Dateline_ devoted to you, complete with narration by Chris Hansen.

"We aren't that much'a strangers. Anyhow, you've seen me naked." Birdy felt a flash of heat race up her body from her toes to her face.

"That wasn't on purpose!" she quickly defended. "I was just, uh, trying to give you, you know, toiletries and stuff." Birdy quickly became flustered and was trying to play off her sneak peek as something else. "And it's not like I was looking anyway!" She wasn't about to admit to checking him out while he was in the shower. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"That so?" Victor asked, like he knew something she didn't. Which, technically, was the case. "I'll remember that the next time I take a shower and you're in the next room." Birdy's eyes grew wide and round. She had been found out. Victor gave her that sly smile again and said, "Don't worry about it. You're the prettiest thing to see me naked in a long time."

Birdy didn't say so but thought that was a shame. Looking around the airport and fiddling with her bags, she let a pause between them grow. She exhaled slowly, trying to regain some of her composure. "Well, guess I'll be going then," she said, hoping she could get away without answering him. This guy might be mixed up with who-knows-what kind of trouble and Birdy didn't want to get involved any more than she already had regardless of the possibility of fun and adventure.

"So ya ain't comin' with me?" Birdy looked up at Victor not completely sure of what to say. Did he want her along for her company or something more? What was he expecting? She hadn't had or wanted a boyfriend in a long time, not that she thought of Victor that way. The only men she really spent time with now were her clients and they paid well for the privilege. If she went, what then? Add him to the books? Pulling injured men from rivers wasn't exactly how she went about obtaining clientele.

He looked at her, his brows raised in question. He was waiting for her to make up her mind…again. She looked away, sorting through her own thoughts, mentally listing the pros and cons. _Fudge it,_ she thought. She was ready for a little change, maybe a little adventure, something different. Sure, it wasn't the smartest of ideas gallivanting off to parts unknown with a strange man, but it's not like she had anything or anyone waiting for her back in California. And if she ended up a Jane Doe in some random medical examiner's office? Well, she'd just have to do everything she could to avoid that particular fate. Decision made, Birdy cocked her head and gave Victor her sexiest bad girl grin.

"Okay. What the heck? I'm game," she said firmly with a nod.

*****

_AN: Sorry this was mind-bogglingly long. I just didn't know when to stop!! I needed to get rid of it to focus on other things. Please let me know of any errors. If you like what you've read, please comment. If you didn't like it, please comment._


	5. Chapter 5

Once they were airborne, Birdy's thoughts took over again, questioning her motives and the string of irrational decisions she'd made in the past twelve hours. She'd been able to keep her pestering conscience quiet up until they'd boarded the plane, but now that they were settled thirty-five thousand feet in the air, she couldn't help but wonder what compelled her to take up with the strange man beside her. She watched as Victor flipped through the SkyMall magazine. He stopped turning the pages and Birdy looked to see what over-priced, non-essential item had caught his eye. It was either the counter-top donut maker or the decorative, full-sized plane propeller. He spared her a sideways glance before resuming his browsing, flipping the pages.

They sat together in silence until the flight attendant brought them the drinks they had order prior to take-off. A whiskey double for him, a Captain and diet for her. Birdy was quick on the draw and had a twenty waiting for the attendant. The woman took the bill, blinked and handed it back to Birdy with a smile, "Your change."

"Thank you," Birdy replied. Victor gave her a curious look and she winked at him over the rim of her glass. He shook his head, amused, before taking a sip of his drink. "So," Birdy started, "what's your story?" She didn't pull any punches, that was for sure. Victor liked that. Didn't mean he was going to be obliging.

"Whattya mean?"

Birdy fought the smile his deliberate evasion elicited. "You know what I mean," she said, her eyes flicking to his hands.

He nodded, knowing exactly what she wanted to hear but countered with, "In a pressurized metal tube, cruising about six hundred miles an hour, surrounded by norms probably ain't the best place for that kinda conversation. 'Sides, it ain't a nice story, anyway."

"Oh. Well, I just thought that if we'd be spending time together, we might want to get to know each other. Ya know, likes, dislikes, hobbies, favorite TV shows," Birdy shrugged and took another sip of her drink. "That sorta thing."

"Hmm. Yeah." Victor agreed lightly. He set his glass on the closed magazine on his tray table and turned a little to face Birdy. "So," he started, "what's your story?"

Birdy paused and gave Victor a funny look. "You were supposed to go first."

"Ladies first," he indicated to her with one hand. She dipped her head and looked around the cabin before she started.

"Well, I'm originally from New York. The only child of an Irishman and an NYC artist and I can make people do, say and think anything I want." She smiled that cute smile that Victor was easily getting used to. "Your turn. Keep it clean, if you must."

Ignoring her instruction, he asked, "What do your parents think of what you do?" Birdy wasn't sure if he meant her mutant ability or the prostitution. Either way it didn't matter so she answered as truthfully as she could.

"If they were still alive, they might have some reservations. Of course, if they were still alive a lot of things would have turned out differently."

Victor's curiosity was brusque. "How'd they die?"

Birdy looked down at her drink. The bubbles popped as she swirled it, the ice clinking against the sides. "Car accident," she said quietly. Then a sad, bitter laugh. "Car _bomb_ is more like it." She took a long pull from her glass.

"Was he IRA or somethin'?" That was the only link Victor could think of. Car bombings plus Irishmen usually equaled IRA, at least twenty years ago it did.

"No. Daddy was Interpol. Officially," she said, making quotations in the air, "it was written up as wrong place, wrong time. Honestly, though, being in that line of work probably didn't win him a lot of fans with the world's bad guys." When Victor didn't comment she continued by saying, "Anyway, with no living relatives I was placed in the care of New York's child welfare department. I had the typical orphan story, bouncing from foster home to foster home, freaking out caretakers along the way. When I turned eighteen, I hit the road for California. The furthest place away from what had been home without crossing an ocean." If Birdy felt melancholy about her story, she didn't show it. Victor knew how tough life could be and a part of him was glad to see that Birdy hadn't let her shitty luck drag her down. But he couldn't help wondering how much of her past had influenced her current career choice. He'd met his share of girls looking for their Daddy in warm arms down dark alleyways but Birdy seemed to hold her head higher, step with more confidence. She knew a liar when she saw one and didn't have to waste her time weeding through the filth of society to find her happiness. She made it happen for herself and Victor liked that.

"Regardless of what you may think of me," Birdy said remembering Victor's remark from the hotel room, "I make a good living. My clients are happy and I like what I do. So I cheat a little at it. They'll never know." She paused, smiling a little. "Besides, there are worse things I could be doing."

"True enough. How many clients you got?"

"Right now? I've got four guys I work with. Two are married, one's gay, the third's some big shot computer geek and they all have a lot of disposable income. What about you? Is swimming in major metropolitan rivers a pastime or part of the job description?"

"Neither." Victor wasn't too keen on sharing the details of how he ended up floating down the Hudson. But that was more to save himself from embarrassment. He didn't know if she'd seen or heard anything in the news about what happened at Liberty Island last night and he wasn't sure how she'd take it if he just up and told her he was a killer and mercenary-for-hire. "I guess you could say I help people…help 'em to solve problems they got." He shrugged, hoping his vague description was enough to placate her.

"What? Like one of those…oh, what do you call them?"

_Cleaner, professional, hachet man, assassin….take your pick, girl, _Victor thought to himself.

"Oh! Life coach! Is that what you mean?"

"Yeah. Somethin' like that."

"Wow, I bet that's interesting work. You probably meet all kinds of people."

"Oh yeah. All kinds."

****

As the aircraft pulled up to the gate, Victor stood and retrieved their carry-on bags from the overhead compartment. His size effectively blocked the aisle from anyone else in their section from rushing the exit once the door was opened. Birdy slid across the seat and stood, Victor stepping back in an unexpected and chivalrous manner to let Birdy into the aisle. A rush of cool air breezed over Birdy as she exited the plane and entered the terminal at Hartsfield International Airport. She let Victor take the lead, doubling her steps to keep up with him. She couldn't help but notice the looks she got from people in the terminal as they passed by. A young pretty blonde and the man walking next to her, silent and wild. Victor towered over the crowd, his pale blonde hair drifting back in the wake of his stride. Birdy did her best to block out the onslaught of thoughts. Some were unknowingly projected and those were the toughest to avoid. Birdy often equated crowded public places to a gauntlet and she was always having to rush by, defending herself against the deluge of brainwaves entering her mind. Today her control was steady and she imagined the brick wall in her mind protecting her from the torrent of random thoughts, like the arrows of an advancing army, coming from the crowd and bouncing away harmlessly.

As they neared the baggage claim area, the usual line of drivers stood waiting for those they were to pick up. Birdy saw Victor's last name, which she'd learned was Creed during check-in, on a handheld dry-erase board. Victor pointed to the stout man in black and then pointed towards the luggage carousels, indicating he wanted him to follow them. They stepped up to the carousel corresponding to their flight and watched as bags came tumbling down the shute.

"It's a big Louis Vuitton case," Victor told the chauffer and the man nodded, stepping forward to be ready to pluck it from the belt when he saw it. Birdy looked up at Victor, wondering how he knew the name of the design house that'd made her bag.

Soon enough, Birdy spotted her case and the chauffer hefted it off the belt, pulling the handle and rolling the bag behind him. "Ready when you are, sir." Victor nodded and motioned for the man to lead them to the waiting car.

The early October weather in Atlanta was cool and refreshing to Birdy as they left the airport terminal. They walked down the side of the buzzing building, and a sharp breeze picked up and whipped through the narrow channel of the drop-off/pick-up area. Up ahead, there was an idling luxury sedan and the chauffer opened the passenger door for Birdy, nodding politely as she slid into the seat. She heard the trunk pop and felt the motion of her bag being dropped into the space. There was a whoosh as the trunk was slammed shut and Victor opened the driver's side door. He stopped, stared at the seat then shook his head in annoyance. Birdy had to smother a smile as Victor let the seat glide back slowly with its electric motor, trying to obtain as much leg room as he could. When the seat had gone back as far as it could, he sat down roughly. "Tight fit?" Birdy asked.

Victor gave her a look of amused exasperation, "Not so bad. Sports cars are the worst."

"Then we might not get far if you ever make it out to Cali. I have a coupe."

"I'll just have to bring my bike, then. There's enough room for two on that."

"I never would'a pegged you for a Harley guy," Birdy said with a touch of light-hearted sarcasm. She flashed him one of her sweet smiles that Victor found himself starting to crave. He knew he wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he could learn. So long as he was rewarded with her attention.

"Must'a been my clean-cut look that threw ya," he joked. Victor easily pulled the car out into traffic and started for the freeway.

"Well, it certainly wasn't the way you hauled yourself from the Hudson River that clued me in on your act. I sure hope you don't plan on pulling that here. I don't think I could keep up with that on a daily basis." Birdy chided him gently, enjoying their back and forth.

"It ain't in my plans, so here's hopin'." Victor switched on the radio to pass the time during the drive through downtown. He and Birdy shared bits of conversation here and there, mainly generic dialogue about the city itself. After a good thirty minutes, he left the freeway and wound his way through streets that were more suburban.

To Birdy, the neighborhood looked very well-to-do. Open-air shopping villages and expensive restaurants dotted the landscape as they drove through town. Not a Wal-Mart Supercenter or McDonald's Drive-Thru in sight. A few miles later and Victor navigated the car into a gated community, the red brick wall easily concealing its contents from the street. Birdy saw a uniformed guard in the small glass building in the median, but instead of pulling alongside it, Victor took the far right lane, flicking the control for the automatic window. He reached for a keypad just outside and punched in a series of numbers, each one beeping as they were pressed. The gate opened and Victor drove through, winding his way down the quiet neighborhood streets.

The homes of the private community were massive, averaging two-stories and each with two, double-car garages. Most were covered in the same red brick veneer as the wall at the front entrance but a few were built with planking reminiscent of an old country home. The lot of land that each home sat on was just as impressive as the homes themselves and the space between each house was enough that another house could fit. It was obvious to Birdy that this was a rich neighborhood. And being this close to the city's center, Birdy could only imagine the mortgage that came with each dwelling.

Victor directed the car down a cul-de-sac while simultaneously reaching for the glove box. The back of his knuckles brushed Birdy's knee. Her skirt had somehow hitched itself up a little, though it was long enough to cover her. Neither acknowledged the momentary touch but Victor could have sworn he heard Birdy's heart rate speed up a little. He pulled a rectangular fob from the compartment, aimed it at the more subdued home on the street and pressed the button. As one of the garage doors slowly lifted up, he put the remote back into the glove box and shut the small door with a click. He accelerated up the driveway and into the wide garage.

Birdy noticed how average looking the garage was. There were large red tool cabinets, a few pieces of lawn equipment and 2 bikes suspended from the ceiling. The car shared the space with a sleek, black motorcycle, obviously built for speed. In the other garage bay was an extremely large black truck with orange Georgia clay stuck in the tread of its big knobby tires. Birdy got out of the car and walked around to the trunk where Victor was already pulling her case out. She shouldered her purse and reached for the smaller of her two bags.

"I got it," Victor said, setting it on top of the larger case. "Go on inside." Birdy pressed her lips together in a smile and passed around him to a door that lead into the house.

Inside, Birdy was immediately impressed with the opulent décor. She'd first come down a short hallway that opened up into the main foyer of the house. The marble floor and crystal chandelier both shone from the sun coming through the large windows. Her boot heels echoed off the ceiling which was the full height of the house as she walked through to explore the rest of the ground floor. She wound through a sitting parlor and large dining room. Cutting through the butler's pantry she found the kitchen, its white cabinetry and black granite countertops starkly contrasting one another. She rounded the large island in the center of the kitchen, admiring the double-door refrigerator with its stainless steel body and transparent glass doors. Birdy casually peered into the fridge wondering who had taken the time to organize the bottles of water, soda and beer so that all their labels faced front. Surely not Victor? Most of the other contents were arranged in a similar fashion, very neat and tidy. Setting her purse on the island, Birdy saw a large, yellow envelope with 'Creed' written on it in large black letters. She wondered what it contained, who had put it there and why. She thought of taking it to Victor but decided on leaving the package where it was, certain that he would find it.

The kitchen easily flowed into another living space and one wall was covered with every type of home entertainment electronic imaginable. On the coffee table lay a platoon of remote controls, perfectly lined up and awaiting orders. Birdy made a mental note to keep her distance from the television wall. Electrical components had a funny habit of going on the fritz sometimes when she was around and she didn't want to try her luck in someone else's home. Past the living room, tucked away in an awkward corner was a small little niche that held a plush chair, a floor lamp and two short bookcases; a makeshift library. Birdy traced the spines of the books, all having been relinquished of their dustcovers and giving the little collection a certain kind of charm. A rustling sound drew Birdy's attention away from the books and back to the kitchen, where Victor stood tearing open his envelope. He gave a short look inside before acknowledging Birdy. "I got some work to do right now. Maybe you can find something to do while I'm busy? Might take me a few hours to sort through this," he explained, indicating the envelope.

"Sure," Birdy replied, feeling a little let down all of a sudden.

"Help yourself to whatever. Your bags are upstairs," Victor added as he walked away. Birdy slumped against the kitchen island and watched as he disappeared to the front of the house. There must be an office up there she hadn't seen.

Disappointed with her adventure thus far, Birdy thought about what she could do to pass the time. She had a swimsuit with her but the chilly breeze she'd felt earlier at the airport nixed that idea. So, sun-bathing was out. The television, with its entourage of remotes intimidated her and she didn't want to bother Victor simply to ask him how to turn the damn thing on. She turned and looked back at the little niche with its books. Reading was a nice, quiet activity that she had come to enjoy. It was something she could do without the distracting thoughts of others flitting through her head. Deciding that would be the easiest and simplest thing to do, Birdy first wanted to get out of her clothes and put on something more casual. If she was going to laze around the house, she might as well be dressed comfortably.

After exploring the upstairs rooms individually for a few minutes, Birdy found the master suite at the end of a short hallway. The double doors were open and, once inside, the size of the room overtook her. She could have easily fit her kitchen, living room and dining room into this one room alone. Anchoring the massive space was a huge and imposing bed, the whitewashed wooden posts supporting a canopy swathed in fabric. The dressers, chests and tables were finished in the same manner as the bed but with thick slabs of a pinkish granite on their tops. The room's look was extravagant, from the crystal lighting fixtures to the silver-handled hairbrushes, and Birdy wondered whose home they were in and if they even knew they were there. She didn't want to dwell on the possibility that they were committing illegal acts of breaking and entering, but she supposed they weren't. Especially since Victor had the keys to the place….or, at the very least, the garage door opener.

She found her bags next to a plush fainting couch and unzipped the larger case, pulling some clothes from it. As she changed out of her skirt and boots, her mind wandered back to her mysterious new friend. If she was going to think of him as such. He wasn't much of a talker and when he did speak, he didn't reveal a lot about himself. He kept things very general. Come to think of it, Birdy had dominated their entire conversation on the flight to Atlanta but Victor hadn't seemed to mind. She certainly never saw that he wanted to get a word in, nor had she stepped on any part of anything he said. She mentally shrugged it off as she slipped on a well-worn pair of jeans and a pale yellow t-shirt. As big of a guy as he was, if Victor had wanted to say something, the man could speak up for himself.

Birdy tucked her boots under the chaise and gently folded her clothes before heading back downstairs. If Victor was going to be tied up with….whatever he was tied up with, Birdy was going to need a good book to snuggle up with. Especially considering there was no immediate hope for any other kind of snuggling. She wondered where that thought had come from as she bounced down the stairs and headed for the book niche, her bare feet padding on the cool marble floor. Sure, he was good looking, tall as hell and really mysterious, but did that make him a future bedmate? And if it did, did that constitute a relationship or simply a perk of the job…a freebie? Birdy pondered the possible relationship scenario as she looked over the book selection. She then had to admit to herself that she really wasn't in the mood to read, her mind filling with other thoughts. She picked a book anyway, and sat down in the chair, pulling her legs up under her.

She started in on the book, a nonfiction about the great white sharks of the Farallon Islands, but her mind would slowly drift back to Victor and the very real possibility of the two of them hooking up. She wondered if he would be accepting. She chuffed at the thought. Of course he'd be accepting…he was a man! She hadn't met a guy who'd said 'no' to her, and she didn't need her telepathic powers to influence them, either. She thought about what he'd be like in bed. He was so quiet. She had learned that it's the quiet ones you watch out for…they were the real animals in the sack. And for Victor, that might not be a far stretch. But those claws could pose a problem. Lord knows there would be certain areas off limits to those things. Birdy shut the book on her lap with a little more force than was necessary, nearly tipping it off her lap. She closed her eyes, took a smooth, calming breath and opened her book again. _Really, B! Having sexual fantasies with a man you've just met. Never mind sleeping with guys for money. You've only just met this one! He crawled out of the Hudson for goodness sake!_ Birdy chided herself for letting her mind wander. But there was a physical attraction to Victor that was so strong, she couldn't explain it. Focusing on the words on the page, Birdy set to task losing herself in her book and not thinking about Victor Creed.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay with this....almost a year! School...bleh. But I've gotten a good bit written and I'm ready to share it. This chapter was originally over 8,000 words long but I thought that was a bit excessive so I cut it down into smaller chapters. All of the action, angst and CLAWS that was in this chapter will now be in the next chapter. Hopefully, I can have that up within the next month. As always, ConCrit is welcomed...so be sure to leave some! _


	6. Chapter 6

Birdy blinked and tried to refocus her eyes to read the words on the page. When they wouldn't remain in focus for long, she knew she was tired. She closed the book and looked around the now darkened house. At some point earlier, she knew the light was fading and had turned on the lamp beside her. Now the lamp was the only light in the house, the sun having already set, and its glow spread through the dark home. Birdy put her book back on the shelf, stood and stretched, before walking to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There was plenty of food in the fridge, a nice array of fresh meats and veggies, ready for cooking. She downed half the bottle of water before wandering up to the front of the house to find where Victor had disappeared.

Past the curved staircase, Birdy saw the glow of light coming from the home's office. She leaned against the wooden door jamb and watched Victor loading papers into an electric shredder. He looked up from his task and she smiled. "I was wondering what your plans for dinner were?"

"Don't really have any plans," he said as he guided more pages into the shredder. He regarded her for a moment, waiting for her to reply.

"Oh. Okay. Well, if you wanted, I could make dinner. Looks like there's plenty of stuff to make something with. Unless you'd rather go out to eat or get delivery or something?"

"Up to you," he said, shrugging. "I got a few more things to do before I'm done here." He continued to shred papers, the whirring of the machine filling the quiet between their conversation. Birdy wondered what could be so sensitive that he'd need to destroy it but not specifically knowing about his line of work, she didn't voice her question. Maybe it was akin to doctor-patient confidentiality when it came to being someone's life coach. Though, he really didn't seem to fit her preconceived mold for someone in that line of work. But Birdy knew better than to judge by appearances. Daily, she encountered people who looked one way but thought a different way, as though they were trying to conform or rebel from what society thought they should be. And since she couldn't read Victor – something she eventually wanted to ask him about – she'd simply have to accept his answers to her questions as truth.

"I'll get started on some dinner, then," she remarked before heading back to the kitchen. Birdy ran through a list of dinner possibilities from what she'd remembered seeing in the fridge. When she got there, she opened the door to the dry goods pantry and looked through its contents. Deciding on something quick and easy, she grabbed a few jars of spice and got to work.

Twenty minutes later, Birdy was finishing washing up what few dishes she had used and was sliding a small cookie sheet of pre-made biscuits into the oven next to the casserole that was already baking. "What's on the menu?"

"Sheesh! You scared me," Birdy said nervously, as she shut the door to the oven. "I didn't hear you walk up." The palm of one hand lay flat over her chest to calm her thudding heart. Victor's smooth, deep voice had startled her in the silence and she'd jumped, nearly brushing her hand on the inside of the oven. Vaguely, she wondered how she hadn't heard him given that there was nothing on, like a radio or television, to mask the sound of him entering the room. His shoes didn't squeak or tap on the floor, nor did his clothes rustle as he moved…he was completely soundless.

"Force of habit," Victor said by way of apology as he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. With one claw he effortlessly popped the cap off and it noisily bounced on the granite counter. He slapped it still, capturing it under his palm before collecting it and dropping it into an unseen trashcan under the island.

"S'okay," Birdy replied, busying herself with straightening the decorative hand towels draped over the oven handle. "Hope chicken's okay? Got it baking with some noodles and veggies…carrots, celery, green beans. Peas, too. And some of those pop-can biscuits." Birdy felt a little nervous going on about the meal she'd just made. It was the personal nature of cooking that caused her to feel anxious, especially with little to no planning. Although, if the last two meals she'd witnessed Victor taking in were any indication…if you put a plate of food in front of him, he'd eat it.

Victor took a long draw from his beer. "I'm sure it'll be fine," he said, licking his lips to get the beer off of them. He walked around the island, passing by where Birdy stood, his eyes looking around the kitchen. To her, it was like he was checking the place out, making sure she'd cleaned up after herself and put everything back where it was suppose to go. He took another sip from the bottle as he faced her, leaning against the counter. "You like to cook?" he asked.

Birdy tipped her head to the side and considered his question. "Sometimes", she admitted, one shoulder shrugging. "It's tough cooking for one, though." She leaned forward on the island, flattening her palms on the cool countertop. She was completely aware that from this angle, Victor would be able to see down the front of her scoop-neck shirt. She tested him by casually bringing her hands closer together, her arms pressing her breasts together accentuating their fullness and lifting her chin to create a line straight to her bosom…in case he needed directions.

He didn't.

Victor's dark eyes took in all of Birdy there was to see; the long, wavy hair that released a hint of citrus and coconut when she tossed the strands over her shoulder, the too-tight shirt that looked like she bought it from the little kids department, the curve of her back that arced up ending at her perfectly rounded bottom. He doubted he could dream up a more ideal beauty. And the scent she was exuding? It was awakening things in him that had been buried for far too long. He took another swig from his beer, using the bitter taste to distract his mind from the direction Birdy was trying to take it. Not that he'd mind the destination. It had been a good while since he'd bedded a woman, and from what he remembered of the night, the girl didn't enjoy it as much as he thought _he_ did. But the whole thing was a fuzzy memory now. Maybe this girl here, sweet smelling and clear as day, could give him something truly memorable.

He watched as she traced a line on the granite with one finger, following the swirl in the rock that had taken millions of years to create. He knew what game she was playing at, the coy looks while tempting him with her body. If Birdy was waiting for Victor to make the first move, they'd be there a while. Because if there was one thing he was good at, it was waiting. "A girl like you, and you can cook? Guys oughta be fallin' all over themselves to get at ya."

"Finding the right guy isn't as easy as you might think. Don't forget…I always know what they're thinking. Makes having a normal relationship kinda hard." She moved around the island to stand in front of him, leaning back on the counter. In one smooth motion, she hefted herself up to sit on the countertop, her heels tapping the cabinets lightly. She reached for his bottle of beer and he passed it to her after a second's hesitation. She brought the bottle to her lips and tipped it back, the cold bitter taste flooding her mouth, teasing her with bubbles on its way down. Her tongue snuck out to lick the remnants from her lips. Black eyes watched blue as she blinked and flicked to the bottle. He reached for it but Birdy pulled it close to her chest, that sly smile returning. One corner of Victor's mouth turned up…so that's how she was going to play?

He took her challenge and stepped forward, still reaching for the bottle. He curved his hand around the thick glass, his fingers brushing hers and when he gave a gentle tug, she released it. Victor took a rough swig, finishing the drink, then set the bottle on the counter beside Birdy, placing his hands on either side of her thighs. He moved in close, and though she had gained a few inches by sitting on the counter, he was still a foot taller, and he looked down at her face. His black eyes slowly mapped her features as he moved from blue eyes to pink lips. He heard her breathing quicken and felt the warm air on his neck. He could smell the beer she had tasted, it's flavor thickening her scent. Victor moved in closer, holding Birdy's gaze as he closed the gap between them. His eyes flickered to her lips and she parted them, waiting for him to press her for entry. Birdy closed her eyes and anticipated the pressure of his mouth on hers.

Instead, she felt a hand in her hair tipping her head gently to one side. The tip of Victor's nose brushed under Birdy's ear and she suppressed a shiver. She could hear his great inhalation of breath as he pulled her in. Another hand gripped her thigh tightly and she could feel the tips of his claws through her jeans. They were only just there…not penetrating, not cutting. He slowly nuzzled her neck, hidden under a curtain of her hair, wanting nothing but to smell her. His whiskers grazed her cheek as he made another pass, this time his lips brushing the skin of her neck. It could be so easy for him to tear through that delicate skin, expose the veins and arteries underneath. To open them like a tap, releasing the red liquid inside and letting it cascade down her body like a waterfall. But Victor held back that desire. He pushed it far back in his mind and let another desire, a more insistent desire, come to the fore. He let his tongue steal a taste of her skin before retreating back. She was so warm and pliant in his hands that he allowed himself another pass, this time deepening the contact, dragging his tongue along her jaw line. Victor nuzzled her again, pulling her closer, breathing in deeply.

Birdy sighed, complacent in the actions he was performing on her body with only the slightest of touches. She felt her body responding to him, his closeness, and let him dictate the speed of their encounter. His lips began a gentle track towards her mouth and she turned her face to meet his. They pressed their lips together chastely, once, before the need to feel more took over. Birdy forced her tongue into his mouth, and cataclysmically, Victor responded in kind. He gripped her tighter and crushed her mouth with his own, their tongues battling for dominance. She wrapped her body around his, gripping his waist with her legs and her arms around his neck. In turn, he lifted her from the counter, keeping her body pressed close to his. Their mouths never parted, their breathing hard and forced as they continued their ravenous assault on one another. Victor could taste the dark flavor of the beer, bitter and chocolately, on her tongue. He let the flavor seep into his own mouth, let it mix with the taste of her lips.

An eternity passed and their worlds became warm, wet pressure. Breathing and moving was all that could be heard in the quiet house. They squeezed and pulled at one another, intensifying the embrace. Birdy began slowing, her deep lustful kisses turning to licks and nips. She loosened her hold on Victor and slid her legs from around his body to the floor, her toes barely touching the cool tile. She trailed her hands over his chest as she began to gradually turn away. Victor stood puzzling over her sudden halt of their heated session as she continued her leisurely stroll out of the kitchen. She let her hand glide across the smooth granite top of the island as she walked away and gave him a blazing look over her shoulder.

When she had disappeared, Victor smiled to himself. He waited and listened to hear her footsteps leave the tiled floor and start up the carpeted stairs. He heard the fifth step creak as it always did and decided he would now follow after her. When he had reached the bottom of the staircase, Birdy looked down to make sure he was trailing. Sure enough, he climbed the steps behind her and, though she was nearly halfway up, he reached out and grabbed her ankle, stopping her ascent. He held her there as he came up the steps and Birdy turned and sat to wait for him. Victor grinned and ran his hands up her legs. He could feel her warmth through the fabric of her jeans but was eager to feel the warmth of her skin pressed close to him. His hands trailed up her body, sneaking their way under her shirt. Victor reveled in the feel of her smooth skin as he brought his hands closer and closer to Birdy's chest.

Unfortunately for Victor, that was where Birdy decided to end the tour. She slipped up the steps backward, hopping to her feet, giggling, and bounded up the few remaining stairs. She turned, walking backwards into the master suite, with her hands pulling at the hem of her shirt. Victor caught a glimpse of tanned skin just a Birdy disappeared into the room. He lifted himself from the steps, taking them two at a time, and started pulling his own shirt over his head. Once in the bedroom, he dropped the shirt to the floor and followed Birdy's path of discarded clothing to the bed.

There she sat in the center of the bed wearing only her lace panties with the comforter and pillows clouded around her. Victor didn't waste any time. His hands quickly worked to remove his pants and he let them drop to the floor as he climbed onto the bed. He stalked her over the sheets, moving closer without seeming to move at all. He let her scent guide him to her and when he reached her, she rolled onto her back. Victor paralleled Birdy, covering her body with his own. Supporting himself with one arm, his other hand trailed over Birdy's body as he once again buried his face in her neck. Her arousal was intoxicating and he had to fight to keep control. He growled low and Birdy made a noise of surprise. Warily, he watched her reaction but she only smiled and pulled his face to hers, inundating him with lips and tongue.

Their mouths opened to one another licking, tasting, sucking. Birdy pulled at Victor, her hands digging into his shoulders as he maneuvered his body to rest between her thighs. He could sense that she was ready but Victor wanted to draw this out just a little longer. It had been too long since he'd been with a willing partner and he didn't want to waste the moment by rushing through it with blinders on. He wanted to feel every inch of her warm skin, to memorize the flavors of her body and to savor the moment when her body wrapped around his and shuddered. Victor knew he would need to be careful with this one. She was sweet and delicate and there were so few like her left in the world. One hand push aside her thigh and he trailed his claws over the skin toward his chosen destination. He felt her tense slightly, aware of his dark talons so close to her precious core, but he calmed her wordlessly by turning his hand over and letting his knuckles rub against her softly.

Birdy relaxed and whimpered at his touch. She began to rock her hips, encouraging him to deepen the contact. Though he could only go so far, Victor made the most of what he could do and soon Birdy's hands were on his hips, pulling his body closer to hers. When he was ready, Victor guided himself into Birdy and covered her mouth with his own, muffling her sigh of surprise that melted into a moan of pleasure. Effortlessly, they found their rhythm and they pushed and pulled against each other. Birdy would rise up to meet Victor as he pressed into her with synchronized motion.

The pulse of their movement was so natural that Birdy marveled at the ease of their connection. But curiosity and doubt were invading what few thoughts were present and she had the mind to try something daring, though wary of the outcome. She wanted a peek inside his mind and if the distraction of sex couldn't cause a crack in that wall of his, nothing would. Ghostly and unseen, a tendril of psionic power slipped from Birdy's mind and reached out to breech the wall of Victor's subconscious.

Once inside, Birdy was faced with a towering wall of stone and mortar lit by a pale glow seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. To the left, right and skyward the bricks disappeared into infinity. Birdy placed one hand on the wall and felt the warmth of the stone. She pushed gently, unsure of how to overcome the obstacle. There was no give and the roughness of the brick scratched at her palm. She looked down the length of the wall in both directions before choosing to venture right along the barrier. Dragging her hand along the stone, she tested the fortification for any sign of weakness, any crack or flaw she could exploit to enter further into Victor's mind.

Outside the psionic plane, Birdy tried to buy herself time by staving off orgasm. It was tricky and could be kind of a bummer, but right now, seeing what Victor had to hide was more important than getting off.

Unable to find the smallest fissure in Victor's wall, Birdy placed both hands on it and willed herself to the other side. It didn't work and she didn't really have any more ideas. This had never happened to her and she was at a loss at what to do next.

Birdy let her psionic-self dwell a little while longer beside Victor's wall, hoping she'd come up with something soon. What he was doing to her body was ready to send her over the edge in a neat little package and she wasn't sure how much longer she would hold out. Over the course of the last few minutes, their bodies had twisted and tumbled over the sheets, their limbs tangled like vines in a jungle and Birdy was about to let her mind pull away from Victor's when he suddenly stopped all movement and looked down at her, quizzically and maybe even a bit angry, his brow knitted together. Birdy knew then that she had been caught. She quickly removed herself from Victor's mind and had the good graces enough to look embarrassed.

"Don't do that."

"I'm sorry," Birdy said. "I just wanted to…make it a really great experience for you." She rubbed her hands along his sides to deflect from her faux pas. She really had wanted to make the sex incredible and when she was with other men, she literally blew their minds by turning up their pleasure centers and overloading their senses. But it was obvious to Birdy that Victor wasn't going to be easily manipulated like the rest.

"You don't need to do that with me. Anyway, it's damn good already." He started a slow rhythm again, mouthing and kissing from her neck to her chest.

As Victor continued his lovemaking, Birdy grew breathless once again. "But I can make this the most incredible thing you've ever felt."

"Oh really?" Victor asked with a fanged smile. With his thighs and hands, he tipped Birdy's hips up and pushed into her. Her eyes grew wide and she sucked in a breath as he withdrew and pumped in again. Birdy couldn't help but digging her nails into Victor's back. She gasped with pleasure, not knowing or caring what he was doing, just not wanting him to stop. Birdy pulled her legs up to wrap around his waist, opening herself wider for his entry. They rocked together like that for what seemed like forever and Birdy began panting and whimpering at a quickening pace, the sounds made ratcheting higher. She knew her end was near and she worked for it before it slipped away, pumping in time with Victor. He himself had become preoccupied with finishing and steadied himself with one hand against the headboard, the other gripping Birdy's hip, as he increased momentum.

Soon enough and still too soon, Birdy felt the beginnings of orgasm swell within her. Whatever part of Victor she could get her hands on, she rubbed and stroked and grabbed, lifting her hips off the bed to meet him as he came crashing into her. A sweet tingle raced through her body and Birdy knew this was it. She arched back and let her orgasm take over, let it control her body, squeezing Victor's shaft, milking him to completion. Her eyes shut tight, she saw spots and random light patterns behind her closed lids. The only sound she could make out was her thundering heartbeat in her ears soon muffled by a roaring vibration that she felt through her entire body.

Slowly, Birdy came back to herself, still rocking her hips but slowing the pace. The last remnants of pleasure still trickled through her as she opened her eyes, rubbing Victor's warm, hard body as he hovered above her, only partly collapsed on her smaller frame. She could feel his hard breathing on her neck and she pushed his hair away from his face. Using her hands to continue exploring his body while their hearts calmed, she found Victor's one hand still gripping the headboard above her. Before she could move to look, Victor roughly pulled his hand free, his claws fully extended, leaving deep crevices in the wood. He looked at her and smiled. "You wouldn't believe the number of pillows I go through." Birdy giggled as Victor rolled to his side, giving her some freedom to move and breathe a little easier. Easily, she snuggled up next to him, a lazy hand draped over his chest.

They lay there for a time, the orange glow from the streetlights reaching into the room, barely making shapes visible. Birdy let Victor trail his hands over her, softly petting, as they lay in languid silence. Victor breathed deeply and Birdy enjoyed the rushing sound of air filling his lungs with her ear against his chest. A second deep breath and this time Victor seemed to hold it longer before his deep voice broke the silence. "Think dinner's burning."

It took her a moment before realization sunk in. "Shit!" Birdy exclaimed, scrambling off the bed. She dipped to pick something off the floor then was out the bedroom door and thundering down the steps, swearing along the way. Victor chuckled to himself as he stretched. Lazily, he rolled out of bed and grabbed his pants before heading downstairs.

In the kitchen, Birdy was staring furiously at the tray of biscuits that had had the audacity to overcook themselves while she and Victor were upstairs having sex. She tapped at one offensive bun with the back of a wooden spoon, "Dammit."

Victor walked into the kitchen, taking a place beside her and surveying the damage. The casserole seemed okay, but the biscuits looked a little too golden brown. More like chocolate brown. Birdy looked up him and offered up a lopsided frown, "Sorry."

"They don't look so bad," he offered, trying to let her off the hook. He flipped one of the biscuits over, its white underside showing. "This side looks edible. Just cut off the tops."

"Well, aren't you the optimist?" Birdy replied as she flipped the rest of the warm buns over. She got to work tearing the burned tops off, tossing them back onto the baking sheet to be thrown away later. While she busied herself with that, Victor pulled a bottle of wine from the cooler and scrutinized the label. When he was satisfied with his selection, he found a pair of wine glasses in the cabinet and got to work finding a corkscrew. Birdy, in turn, plated up portions of the chicken casserole, nestling in biscuit halves along the sides. They worked together without a word and Victor watched as Birdy wiped down an area of the counter she had been working at. She had grabbed the shirt he had been wearing off the floor as she'd bolted from the room and was now wearing it, the sleeves rolled up and buttoned up just enough to stay on. Her hair was only a little disheveled and he could see pink patches on her neck where he had been. The homey scene hit Victor with a strange twang of nostalgia he'd never felt before and he made the effort to shake it off as they moved into the living room.

Birdy sat the plates on the coffee table in front of them and Victor handed her a glass of white wine. He reached for a remote to flick on the television as he sat down and Birdy passed him his plate. Once they had settled in, they ate in silence watching a rerun episode of Law and Order. Birdy wondered if this was a favorite show of Victor's or if he was watching it because that's what channel the TV was on. During one commercial break, Birdy felt she'd gathered enough courage to talk to Victor about her intrusion. She didn't want to pussyfoot the issue so she just came out with it.

"Why can't I read you?"

A credit to his nature, Victor didn't even pause when she asked her question. He finished chewing the food in his mouth, taking his time to wash it down with a bit of wine and setting his glass back on the table before answering. "Ain't nothin' in there worth seein'," he finally replied, stonewalling.

"If it's not worth seeing, then why hide it? "

"Because I can. Why're you so interested in somethin' that ain't yours to know?"

Birdy set her empty plate on the coffee table and shrugged. "I don't know. I've never been able to not read someone's mind before. It's…off-putting."

"You said yourself it's tough bein' around folks and hearing what they think all the time. Why not enjoy the silence while ya got it?" Victor's eyes never left the television screen as he spoke, so he didn't see Birdy's somewhat disappointed look as he brushed off her question. She didn't want to push the issue, not while they were still new to one another. But if they made a habit out of spending time together, she'd find out what he was hiding, one way or another.

They sat watching a second episode of the police drama, sometimes commenting on the absurdity of the crime committed or guessing who they thought was the criminal. Over the course of the second hour, Birdy had managed to sidle closer to Victor, her bare thigh touching his fabric-covered one. Slowly she let her hand snake along his leg, reaching and pressing inward, a teasing touch. Up and down she moved her hand, seeing if he would invite her to continue or if he would make a move of his own. Several minutes of this and Birdy could sense Victor relaxing as she gently massaged his thigh. She moved her hand to his bare chest as she lifted herself up and over to straddle his lap, blocking his view of the TV screen. Victor raised an eyebrow and Birdy smiled, pressing against him as she went in for a kiss.

Easily, his hands found her naked bottom under his shirt that she wore. The rough calluses of his hands smoothed over her skin as he kept his claws up and away, lest they scratch her and spoil the moment. Victor let Birdy dictate the speed as she dug her hands into his hair and drove her tongue into his mouth. All too soon he would need to end this little scene but he would take what he could get from her while the getting was good.

Birdy's hands seemed to be all over and after what felt like hours of sloppy kissing and mouthing, she let her hands trail down to Victor's crotch, intent on releasing him from his fabric prison and replaying their earlier tryst, right here on the sofa. But as she did so, Victor's hands circled her wrists, stopping her from going further. She made a noise of disappointment and pulled back to give him a pouty face.

"Hate to cut this short, but I gotta get ready for work," he said gruffly, by way of explanation. It nearly pained him to do so, as he was ready and willing to continue, but there were bigger priorities to him right now.

"Work? But it's nearly ten o'clock." Birdy's reply was more curious than whining and she tipped her head to the side in question.

"That's when the appointment's for. Client sets it, not me."

Birdy could understand the odd schedule, having made a few in her line of work before. But she thought it a little strange for someone to need lifestyle counseling so late in the evening. Nevertheless, she moved off of Victor's lap so he could get up. He swatted at her naked thigh promising, "We'll have time later. Promise."

Feeling abandoned as she had earlier in the day when Victor disappeared into the office, Birdy frowned as she watched the TV. The end credits to the show were flashing on the screen and Birdy sighed before getting up and gathering their dishes, carrying them to the sink.

As Birdy was wiping down the counter, having finished washing the dishes and putting away what was left of their dinner, Victor entered the kitchen pulling on a black leather jacket. Earlier when she was changing her clothes, she noticed the master bedroom's walk-in closet was full of garment bags, each tagged with different letters. She hadn't gone so far as to open any of the bags, but she assumed that's where Victor had gotten this latest outfit. Dressed completely in black, he was an imposing sight.

"_That's_ what you wear to work?" she asked, every bit the skeptic.

Victor pulled his hair out from underneath the jacket to let it fall freely over his shoulders. "Yup."

"You look like a heavy metal ninja," Birdy said, helping him with his hair. "When ya getting' back?"

"Before dawn," was Victor's answer. "I wouldn't bother waitin' up." He turned to leave, his rubber-soled boots soundless on the marble floor.

Birdy slumped against the counter. "I guess I won't. Have fun," she called after him, getting a short wave back as Victor rounded the corner heading for the garage. Determining that the kitchen was clean enough and she was alone for the rest of the night, Birdy decided to head up stairs to change for bed and settle in.

After scrubbing her face clean and slipping on the silky pajamas Mitchell had given her, Birdy snuggled into the large bed, the downy comforter warming her bare legs. Victor hadn't been gone long when she'd heard the ominous sound of thunder in the distance. She hoped he made it to his destination dry. Birdy'd heard the high pitched whine of the motorcycle shortly after Victor left the house. Minutes later it had roared down the driveway and out into the night leaving the house quiet. Not long after that was the distinctive patter of raindrops against the windows heralding the downpour that was to come. An hour later the rain was starting to subside, now only the constant dripping as water slipped from the house's eaves to the ground could be heard, the minute splashes hypnotizing Birdy to sleep.

* * *

It was well after midnight when he finally made it back. Still soaking wet in some parts and bone cold all over, he made his way into the bathroom in the dark to shed his clothing. It had been a shitty night and the rain hadn't helped. Not that he couldn't handle a little rain, or wind or lightening, a damn tornado or whatever the hell Mother Nature wanted to throw at him, but it sure made life easier if things just went…well, easier. Stripped naked, he dried himself off roughly, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed with the warm, soft body that was already there. He grinned in the dark as a flash of lightening illuminated the sleeping figure, her breathing slow and quiet. Only the faintest rumble of thunder rattled the windows as the storm moved away, reminding those of what had just been and signaling to others of what was to come.

He moved in close, bending down to breath her in. Warm and sweet, just as he'd left her. It made his mouth water. Slowly, he pulled the covers away from her and smoothly slid into the bed nearly on top of the girl, pressing his long, hard body against hers. She hummed in her sleep a little, recognizing the contact. He let his hand drag up her leg, over thigh and hip, across the smooth flat plain of her abdomen before stopping to cup a breast and bringing his head down to rub his face against the satin fabric of her pajamas.

Sleepily, she brought her hands up and felt her way up his arms to his shoulders, over his neck to guide his face to hers. He obliged and came down roughly on her mouth, the cold, wet tendrils of his hair covering their faces. She repositioned herself to lie on her back, hoping he would take the invitation to settle between her legs but he kept his knees on the outsides of her thighs, holding her in place. Their hands and mouths rubbed and sucked and touched whatever they could on the other, building up a central heat between the two lovers.

His careless tongue dragged down her neck to her chest and he tore at her silky top, ripping the skinny strap, exposing her breast. She gasped at his sudden roughness, smiling in the dark. He let his hands run down her arms, encircling her biceps, feeling the play of her lean muscles there under his fingers while his mouth sucked at her flesh, his teeth grazing the skin.

She hummed again, enjoying the feel of what he was doing, so much more primal in its intensity, and he deepened the action. He sucked harder and griped tighter and dragged his fangs over her delicate skin.

"Ow," she gasped in surprise before covering quickly, "easy, big boy." He pressed his lips to the offended area as if to apologize before resuming his actions. But his desire got the better of him again and he grazed his teeth along the skin of her breast, this time with more pressure. "Victor! Not so rough, okay?" But instead of easing up, he tightened his hold on her arms, squeezing her biceps, causing her to struggle against him. He also tightened his grip on her thighs, pinning her in place. He knew she was angry now and scared…he could smell it coming off of her. It hit him like the wave of a tsunami and he inhaled it deep.

"Victor, now you're really hurting me. Let go!" Birdy fought to free herself from his grip but she could barely move against him. Her heart began to thud in her chest creating a near-deafening sound in her ears. She pushed back a warm trickle of fear that crawled up her spine to concentrate on how to get out of this situation. Before she had the thought to open up a telepathic link to try and plow into Victor's fortified mind, she heard his deep voice answer her darkly.

"I ain't Victor an' I ain't lettin' go," he said. The chilling words sucked the air from Birdy's lungs, knowing that if she wanted to get away from this, she was going to have to fight her way out. As if on cue, a lone bolt of lightning silently lit up the room and it was then that Birdy saw the soulless white eyes that glared down at her were unfamiliar, though the body remained unchanged. "The name's Sabretooth an' I wanna hear you scream."

* * *

_Author's Notes: Thank you to those of you still hanging in there! Sorry this took so long to finish and sorry it takes so long to read. I have problems making SHORT chapters. Please leave a comment before you go and my favorite are concrits!_


	7. Chapter 7

Birdy was strangled by fear as she looked up at the man above her. Those haunting dark eyes she had been so fascinated by had gone ghostly white, their emptiness filling her with a bone chilling dread she had never known, only imagined. Locked in his grip, she fought to free herself, only to have him tighten his hold on her. She felt the twist of his hands on her arms as she struggled, the friction starting to burn. Another silent flash of lightning lit the room and Sabretooth grinned maliciously down at Birdy.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" she demanded, fighting to keep her voice steady. Shock and fear were filling her with a terror she'd never felt. She was completely blind to this man's thoughts and the unknown opened a chasm of dread inside her that deepened as the reality of her situation became apparent.

"Can't let the stiff have all the fun," Sabretooth sneered. "Now, you play along nice-like and maybe you might enjoy yourself. I know I will." He dragged his tongue along her neck, scraping her skin with his fangs.

Birdy suppressed a tremor of fright, remembering when she saw those fangs for the first time. The light from the streetlamp had reflected off of them, blood-stained and mysterious. That night seemed so long ago to Birdy now, but in actuality it had only been last night. She flushed with embarrassment, ashamed and angry at herself for being so trusting. _Gullible is more like it,_ she thought regrettably. But she pushed the moment of doubt to the back of her mind and resumed her struggle against her captor. His sinister chuckle only encouraged her to fight against his hold.

"You ain't gonna get away too easily, girlie. I know what makes you squirm and before I'm through with you, you're gonna scream." Sabretooth, confident in the hold he had on his victim, slackened his grip on Birdy to position himself to enter her. Only millimeters were given but it was all that Birdy needed. Quickly and with as much force as she could, she brought her knee up between Sabretooth's legs and made sudden and deliberate contact with his crotch.

The roar he let out was deafening and, no doubt, warranted but it was the distraction Birdy needed to get out from under his body. Birdy scrambled away, over pillows and crumpled sheets, to the edge of the bed. She reached out for one of the large poster railings to grab onto to pull herself over and out of the bed when a clawed hand clamped down on her ankle. Birdy made a shout of protest and struggled to hold onto the post.

Sabretooth jerked Birdy's leg but her hold was fast. She wasn't letting go for anything. She tried to pull out of Sabretooth's grasp but it was useless. In one swift motion he flipped Birdy onto her back and pinned her to the bed again, this time straddling her waist and his massive hands around her neck. Clamping down he growled, "Scream or no scream, you're gonna pay for that, whore."

Birdy instinctively tried to take a breath but it was too late. Sabretooth's hands had already cut off the flow of air and panic blossomed quickly as she tried to pry his fingers from around her neck. His grip was solid. She tried kicking her legs, twisting her body, nothing worked. He had her nailed to the bed like a butterfly under glass and there was nothing she could do about it but lay there and let him kill her.

No, that wasn't right. There _was_ something she could do about it. As the dark closed in around her, Birdy began to draw on her power, concentrating it into a single powerful shot. She knew this would be her last attempt to break free from the powerful mutant above her, the now-stranger who was, quite literally, holding her life in his hands. Birdy also knew that a psionic intrusion of the magnitude she was building up to could possibly kill her. It could kill Sabretooth. It could kill them both. The alternative was simply letting him finish her off without any effort on her part to stop it. But she wasn't about to let that happen.

Above her, Sabretooth pressed down on the delicate neck in his hands, feeling the faint pulse under them growing weaker until he wasn't sure if it was even there anymore. One heartbeat. Then another, more distant now. His devilish grin faltered and he growled in annoyance. She wasn't fighting him anymore. Why wasn't she fighting? Didn't she think she was worth it? As he let up on his grip, his instinct registered a change in the stillness of the room.

In the final millisecond before she unleashed the full force of her power, Birdy felt smothered by a sense of regret, missing the quiet man she'd met barely twenty-four hours ago. It lay on her heavy and crushing and for a moment she felt as much despair for him as she did for herself. She made a silent prayer that this would work as her body began to succumb to the trauma Sabretooth was forcing upon it. She felt weightless and knew she was drifting away. If she didn't open the gates that held back the glowing power of her mind she'd be lost forever. A final beat and the darkness was chased away in a crescendo of light.

The smallest of movements. The twitch of a finger. This was all that broke in the stillness of the room. Seconds continued to tick by slowly, unaware, as was their nature, of the events that had taken place. They came together to form minutes and as they marched ever forward, a breath could finally be heard in the room. The lightest of gasps ahead of a deeper gasp and then coughing, a struggle for air. Another minute was gone before the smooth, steady rhythm of life accompanied time in its progression. Birdy's brow furrowed in pain as she lay curled on the sheets. She blinked against the glow that was beginning to fade as she came around, a remnant of the powerful overload she had just summoned. Sitting up slowly, she swiveled her head to examine the aftermath of the encounter with Sabretooth.

With only the streetlight to go by, its glow reaching through the window, she saw the other mutant sitting slack against the headboard. The blast she forced into his mind must have thrown him like a child's toy across the bed, leaving him to rest nearly half off the mattress, his arm knocking a lamp almost off the bedside table. She glared at him, not out of spite, even though it was reasonable to think so, but to see the rise and fall of his chest. The dimness of the room, however, made this impossible. She couldn't be sure he was dead just as she couldn't be sure he was alive. At this thought, a tremor of fear reminded her of what had just happened and she silently slipped off the bed, never turning her back to Sabretooth. Keeping the bed between her and the man, she tip-toed across the carpet and felt in the dark for the clothes she had been wearing earlier, the jeans and t-shirt that had been folded and placed on the velvet settee. Quickly, quietly she pulled on the jeans over her pajama bottoms. The camisole top was torn and she let it drop to the floor before tugging her t-shirt on. Deciding that it would be too noisy to put on any kind of footwear, she instead grabbed her purse, holding it tight to her chest to keep its contents from rustling and made her way to the bedroom door. Thankfully, it was open and as she neared it she hastily made improvised plans of her escape, creating backups in the event the variables of her getaway had to change.

In the foyer of the suite, only steps away from the bedroom's threshold, Birdy heard Sabretooth stirring, a quiet groan and movement on the sheets. She froze, not wanting to alert him of her disappearance, and prayed that he would fall back into unconsciousness. She was partly dismayed that he was still alive, having hit him with a concentrated dose of her power. The last time that had happened, a man died and she discovered another facet of her power, one that frightened her. Now, when she needed it to harm, it hadn't. Did she do something wrong? Was she not as strong as she used to be? Or was Sabretooth's ability to block her psionic power and telepathy to blame? She couldn't afford the time to consider that now. She needed to get out of there before he attacked her again. Birdy had no doubt he would, especially if he woke with the same splitting headache she had. She waited, holding her breath. After a few seconds, it sounded as though Sabretooth had settled and was no longer moving. Just as she was about to take a step out the door, she heard him speak.

"Birdy?" She held still in the dark, afraid any movement would be heard, certain that the small foyer she was in was not visible from where he was. If his questioning tone was an indication, he might be thinking she's already gone and won't come looking. But what if he did? Could she race down the stairs and be out the door before he caught her? Would anyone hear her scream in the cold, wet night before he dragged her back into the house? Or would he simply finish the job on the front step and let the paper boy find her dew-covered body in the morning? Every thought made Birdy's heart beat faster. It thundered so violently in her ears she was sure he could hear it without trying.

"Birdy. Don't go." He knew. Her heart dropped and her breath felt as though it had been sucked from her lungs. Tears burned her eyes before racing down her cheeks, the air in her lungs released. She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again and turning back into the room. She took one step toward the bed, out of the foyer, to prove to him that she was still there. "I want you to stay," he said simply, his voice quiet.

"I can't," she whispered back, acutely aware of the fear in her voice.

"You have to. You're the only one that can help me." She could scarcely see him sitting at the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor, elbows on his knees, bent over with one hand holding his head. "I can't do this alone."

"Do what?"

He looked up at her and she swore she could see his pain in the darkness. "Keep him back."

"Who?" Her voice sounded so far away in the chasm between them, that Birdy wasn't even sure she had spoken. But Victor's response acknowledged her question.

"Sabretooth," he answered quietly. The word stretched out to Birdy across the dark and phantom hands snaked their way around her neck. She whimpered softly at the imagined touch before chasing the thought away, for now. Birdy was confused by his answer and challenging him could be risky, not knowing who he was and what he was after.

"But _you're_ Sabretooth. You," she paused to build her confidence, "you said you were Sabretooth." She could see him in the pale light shaking his head in disagreement as she spoke. "Don't say you're not because _you_ said it," Birdy nearly cried. Angry at Victor for refusing blame she continued, "Don't tell me you didn't say it because you did! You called yourself Sabretooth with your hands around my throat!" Birdy choked on the accusation, emotions and adrenaline fueling her. She trembled with anger but tried to calm herself. If she was going to get out of the house alive, she needed to keep her head cool. Birdy griped her purse tighter to her chest, a patent leather shield to protect her. She sniffed against her runny nose and swiped a hand across her face. The faint light prevented her from seeing the blood now smeared across her face and the back of her hand.

Victor continued to shake his head and he wasn't sure if he could make clear his circumstance to the near-hysterical girl trembling by the bedroom door. But he'd give it a shot. "We're the same," he said. "I'm him and he's me." He let her have some time to let it sink in and righted the lamp on the table next to him. He reached under the shade and clicked the light on, the white light stabbing his eyes and amplifying the throb at the base of his skull.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Birdy asked, the pitch of her voice rising slightly.

"What it means," Victor started, "is exactly what it sounds like." He looked over at Birdy, a brush of crimson across her face and her tear-stained cheeks sparkling in the lamplight. Her eyes were wide from both fear and confusion so he tried to find the words to explain, and convince Birdy that he needed her. It was such a foreign notion, the idea of needing someone. Could he persuade her to stay with him? To use her glowing light in the darkened corners of his mind and scare the monsters away? A surge of hope raced through him. After all these years, he could see the end of the long, lonely road he'd been travelling. But through the shimmering distance was that really the peace he yearned for or just another mirage?

Birdy shook her head, uncomprehending. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand what you're trying to tell me." Her expression changed from confusion to, maybe, understanding. A hint tickled at her mind, the pieces of this terrifying puzzle starting to fit together and a picture began to emerge. "Wait. Are you trying to say that you've got some kind of," she stopped for a moment, arranging her thoughts before continuing, "like, a personality disorder? Like, split personalities?"

Victor looked at her, the smallest of smiles lifting a corner of his mouth. She understood. "Yeah. Somethin' like that." He stood and took a step toward Birdy but she shrank back against the wall.

"I think I'm gonna go," she said breathlessly. "I won't tell anyone. I promise." Birdy inched backward towards the door, her eyes locked with Victor's.

He reached out to Birdy, an invitation to draw her back in. Her lashes flicked downward and he followed her eyes to his hands. Dark stains covered them and he understood her apprehension. Victor turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Birdy remained motionless against the wall as she listened to the faucet running. She could make her break now. Be out the door and halfway to a neighbor's house before he caught up to her. Too late. Victor came back into the bedroom. He'd slipped on a pair of sweatpants and was holding a wet washcloth in his clean hands. He held it out for Birdy. "Stay?"

"Why?" she asked.

Victor stared hard at Birdy. Did she really expect him to say it? Was that what she wanted? He shoved back the flutter of irritation. "Because I…," he stalled on his answer. He wasn't ready to bare himself to this girl, not yet. "Like I said before, you're the only one who can help."

"But how? I nearly killed myself trying to fight off _your_ inner demon. Sounds like a bum deal for me, if that's the only reason you want me around." Birdy wiped the blood from her face, staining the white cloth red. "Maybe you could find a doctor or something? Someone else to help you."

"No. No doctors. They can't help." Victor sat back down on the bed. The glow from Birdy's blast was fading quickly now and he could feel the lingering effects, relaxing his muscles. "Besides…it was doctors that did this to me. They can't be trusted."

Birdy sank onto the settee, giving up any notion of leaving. She figured she might as well hear him out, regardless of how things ended up. "You're saying you were _made_ to have a split personality?" It was ridiculous. "How'd they do that?"

Victor sighed deep and rubbed his eyes. "Was a while back. I was in the service and they were lookin' for a group'a soldiers for a team they were puttin' together. Real heavy hitters." He rolled his shoulders, popping the joints. "Naturally, they asked me to join. I didn't have anything better goin' on, so I went for it." Victor paused, flicking the claws on one hand. Birdy viewed it as nervous gesture. He was obviously telling this story for the first time. Out loud, at least. "So, we signed our contracts and did what they told us to do. Settle this skirmish, shut down that small arms dealer, whatever. Just _get the job done._ And we did."

Birdy watched Victor struggle to share his past. She could feel that they were getting nearer to the truth. Though she had no inclination to sweep him for his thoughts, she could tell he wasn't lying or misleading her. There was rawness as he spoke and Birdy could feel it deeply. "One day they came 'round and told us about some new program they were workin' on…somethin' to make us better soldiers. Stronger, tougher, and that if we wanted in, all we had to do was say 'yes'. So we said yes and let 'em do what they wanted." Victor's breathing became slow and hard, as if the memories required effort to pull to the surface. He rubbed the back of his neck, dragged his claws over his arms, curled and uncurled his toes. He simply couldn't sit still. Another deep breath before he continued.

"When they started with me, all they wanted was for me to talk. Talk about myself. Where I'd come from. Who my folks were, what _they_ were like. Every stupid little detail, they just had to know it. That doc was forever writin' on his notepad. The scratch of pen on paper, to this day, drives me nuts. But I just sat there and did it. Like a good soldier.

"Then one day, _he_ was just _there._ An' I knew what he was and what he wanted. When they gave the word, he went to work an' I couldn't do nothin' but sit back an' watch." Victor looked at Birdy, to gauge her reaction. She stared at him, unmoving. He couldn't tell if she believed him or not.

"So, they just put another person inside your head?"

"No. They used what was already there. Everyone's got a Sabretooth inside them, but most folks keep it buried. Those docs knew what was needed to bring him outta me an' they used us both for whatever job they had to get done." Victor fell silent. His throat was dry from so much talking. It wasn't in his nature to converse so freely and for so long a time. He let his story speak for itself and if Birdy was inclined to believe it and to stay and help, then he could only think he'd be the better for it. They both sat there, in the pale light that shone from the bathroom, neither looking at the other.

Birdy's mind was clogged with the events of the evening. One moment Victor was a soft-spoken man and the next, a vicious monster. She knew now why he kept his mind shielded from her delicate probing. And though she didn't dare read his thoughts now, she could sense what she knew to be the truth in his words. Whatever it was that prompted her to help him alongside the river last night propelled her to his side. She sat next to him on the bed, setting the purse she'd been clutching on the floor. Her eyes caught the shine off her polished toenails and she couldn't help but glance to the right to see the claws on Victor's feet. Shorter and broader than those on his hands, but just as menacing. He was a plaited contradiction, parts gentle and parts wild, woven together. Adding herself into the mix could certainly throw the balance out of whack. But he was the one asking for it. What could it hurt? He knew, better than she, what was best for himself and if he thought she might be able to help him, then who was she to argue? Tentatively, she placed her hand on his thigh, a silent acceptance to his request.

"Before we go any further," she started, "I need to know whose blood you washed off your hands. I don't think it was mine."

"You're right. It wasn't," Victor answered. "But it might be better if you didn't know." He knew what was coming, what she was going to ask. He would tell her enough to satisfy her but the details he would keep to himself. It was safer for her that way.

"You kill people. Don't you?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. Birdy hugged herself, a little unnerved at the thought of being close to someone who could so calmly admit to murder. "If you can't…if that's somethin' that bugs you too much, I'll understand."

There it was. An out. But Birdy didn't know if she wanted to take it. So much had happened between them in such a short span of time that she felt that there was some purpose to it all. Spiritually, cosmically, coincidentally, Birdy couldn't explain the connection she felt to Victor and sitting there now, she didn't want one. She looked up at him and said, "I want to help."

Victor was crushed by a wave of relief and let out the breath he'd been holding for decades. "Okay, then," he said, smiling just a little. When he got up, Birdy reached for his hand, keeping them tethered together.

"After all that, where ya goin' now?"

He shrugged his great shoulders. "I figured, might be easier for you if I stayed in another room for the night. I know I wouldn't trust _me_ after what just happened."

"Don't be silly," she chided. "If we're going to do this, we can't wait for tomorrow to start trusting one another." Victor hesitated, unsure if Birdy really knew what she was saying. He wanted to trust her. He wanted her to trust him. She was sweet and gentle and encouraging and she replaced the ache in his head with an ache in his chest that made his heart race. Could it work? Could she really, _finally,_ be what tamed his beast? The idea of such a prospect was almost too exciting to stand. And though he was a cyclone of emotion inside, swirling and clouded with the debris of his shattered mind, outside he remained still and confident. Like a duck on the water.

Birdy smiled reassuringly, and gently pulled Victor back to the bed. He climbed in, leaving room for her beside him. Before getting in, Birdy walked to the bathroom and put her washcloth on the counter, flipping the light off as she left. Beside the bed, she switched off the lamp and let her jeans slip to the floor in the dark before sliding under the covers next to Victor. Her heart began to race as the realization of what she was doing started sinking in. In the dark with a man who just tried to kill her. Correction: in the dark with a man who's another man who tried to kill her. If she could just get passed the psycho killer part, she'd be okay. _No_, she told herself, _thinking like that wasn't going to help._ Feeling under the comforter, Birdy found Victor's hand and wrapped hers around it. His was warm and firm, the callused fingertips giving way to those thick, curved claws.

They lay together like that for some time before Victor fell away to sleep and his steady breathing was the only sound in the room. Birdy's mind snowballed thoughts, one into the other, until her situation was a monolith of questions and doubt that loomed above her, threatening to crush her under its weight. The rational part of her mind, however, knew that this could be easily solved and with little worry. She began to comfort herself in the pre-dawn hours. A one-sided plan took shape of how she could be a help to Victor. Girlish tendencies romanticized their circumstances and eased Birdy's restless mind, finally letting her drift to sleep. Trusting each other would only be the start.

* * *

_Author's Notes: THANK YOU to those of you still reading/reviewing/faving this story. Things didn't happen like I'd planned (do they ever) and I've been taken away from writing by school. And at my age! I'd love to have 2 more chapters up after the new year, but it's a wait-and-see game. The next chapter's gonna be kinda "meh" but things will slowly be picking up and we're going to see some familiar X-faces along the way. As its looking, it's easy to say this may be a 24+ chapter story...I hope to make it worth your while to keep reading. Thanks again, all!_


	8. Chapter 8

When morning came Birdy found herself alone in the bed. She stretched sleepily and ran her hand along the pillow where Victor had been. It was cool to the touch. She lay there between wakefulness and a light doze, replaying last night's dramatic events in her head. She wondered again, as she had last night, why she was being so reckless with someone she'd only just met. And last night, there was no denying what Victor, or Sabretooth, was capable of doing to her. Birdy considered her options. She thought about changing her mind, telling Victor she couldn't do what he asked, that it was too much for her. But a twitch of guilt coiled in her chest. She had said she would help and backing out felt wrong to her. It felt cheap. On the other hand, staying with Victor would be a change of pace. Her life had its share of fun but it was less peaks and valleys and more of a plateau lately. Where she went and what she did changed but there was still a monotony to it and it was wearing thin. Knowing that line of thinking would go nowhere, she climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. She flipped on the light and immediately regretted it.

The face in the mirror was ghostly and it reminded Birdy of the cost of her promise to Victor. Could she do this? She blinked at the image in front of her, trying to find the resolve to do what she said she would do. But the dried blood at her nostrils and the darkening bruises that encircled her neck made a strong case to the contrary. Blinking again, Birdy shook off the shroud of doubt that had settled on her and reminded herself why she wanted to help Victor. She had felt his desperation when he looked at her hopefully, those black eyes pleading for help; help she wasn't sure she knew how to give. Birdy would do her best to keep Victor's demon away and she prayed it wouldn't cost her her life.

* * *

To Birdy, it felt good to shower, to wash away the worry and doubt. It felt even better to fix her hair and get some make-up on. She, more than anyone, knew it was how a person looked on the inside that mattered. But looking good on the outside did wonders for the self-esteem. To hide the bruises on her neck she put on a cream cashmere turtleneck. After the brown corduroy skirt, she zipped up her brown boots from the day before. As she stood and smoothed her clothes, Victor entered the room carrying a tray.

"Mornin'."

"Morning," Birdy returned. She watched as Victor gently placed the tray on the still-crumpled bed sheets. He seemed to take more time than was necessary to make sure the tray and its contents were stable on the lumpy bed, with Birdy watching all the while. She came to stand beside him. When she touched his arm, he looked at her.

"'Fraid I'm not much good in the kitchen," he said. The tray he'd brought was set simply; a small plate with a slice of buttered toast and a mug of steaming tea, the little flag hanging over the edge of the cup.

"It's the thought, right?" Birdy hoped that would be enough to assure him that the gesture was not worthless.

"I suppose," Victor replied, shrugging. "I've got business downtown today. You can't come with me for it, but I could take you somewhere and we could meet up later."

Birdy considered the idea. Stay here in this big empty house or wander downtown Atlanta for a few hours? _Or leave...he wouldn't be able to stop you._ No. She made a promise. She wanted to know how this was going to play out. She wanted to see inside Victor's head again and though she was deathly afraid of another encounter with Sabretooth, his immunity to her power intrigued her. "I'm sure I could find something to do while you…take care of business." _Whatever that means,_ Birdy added silently.

"Okay." He looked relieved. "I'll be leavin' in about thirty minutes." Victor felt a heaviness being next to Birdy. He missed the comfort she seemed to evoke within him. But now, reasonably, she vibrated with a nervous energy and it unsettled him. He could tell she was trying to hold back something. She needed the same comfort she had given him. He reached for her then, to touch, to feel the softness that she was. But his movement was quick and Birdy jumped at the motion. Victor pulled his hand back, curling his claws into his fist.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Birdy said a little too quickly, regretting the words as they left her mouth. She didn't want any progress they had made together to be pushed back again and she worried she had done exactly that.

When she looked up at him, she saw no accusation in Victor's eyes. Nor did she see guilt, which she half suspected might be there considering what had happened last night. "S'alright. You got every reason." Victor stared at her for a moment, as though there should be something else he should say, but whatever response he thought he was waiting for never came. After he beat he said, "I'll be downstairs," and abruptly turned and walked from the room. Birdy was once again left wondering what the hell she was doing.

* * *

The ride into downtown Atlanta was just as the ride from the airport had been. Quiet, with only a few moments of small talk interrupting the silence. They had agreed to meet up in a couple of hours as Victor turned onto Baker Street. Pulling off to the side, out of the main flow of traffic to let Birdy off at the sidewalk, Victor handed Birdy a cell phone and told her to input her number into it. When she had handed the phone back to him, he said he would call once he was finished and would meet her wherever she found herself.

Birdy watched as Victor drove off before taking in the area around her. In the car, Victor had mentioned a few places of interest, to the tourist set anyway, where she might could spend the time waiting for him to finish his business. As she looked out across the vast green field of Centennial Park she saw that locals were jogging around the perimeter and more than a few homeless had congregated there to enjoy the noon-time sun. Only slightly to the right she saw the large signs identifying the headquarters of the Cable News Network building and thought she might wander through. Instead, she instantly decided as her eyes caught sight of it, that she would rather tour the massive building right near where she was standing. The large glass exterior of the Georgia Aquarium reflected the blue of the crisp autumn sky and she found herself walking toward the entrance.

* * *

Birdy dug for the bleating phone in her purse, flipping it open to answer it. "Hello?" she answered quietly, not wanting to make any more noise than she already had in the quiet space.

"_Hey,"_ Victor's voice came through smoothly. _"You ready to meet up?"_

"Sure. Where do you want me to look for you?" Birdy asked, gathering her bag and standing.

"_I'll come to you. Where are you?"_

"In the aquarium. I'll come out so you don't have to pay to get in." The viewing area she was in was nearly deserted and she walked toward the exit that would lead out to the main lobby.

"_Nah. I got it. You stay put. I'll be in in a few."_ And with that the call had ended. Birdy shrugged to herself, before closing the phone and heading back into the room she'd left. She resumed her place on the bench where she'd been watching the enormous whale sharks circling a tiny inflatable raft.

It wasn't long before she could feel that Victor had entered the building. The startled minds of other patrons where ringing out and their fright was pinging Birdy's mental radar. Easily, she reached out and tamped down on their reactions before closing off their minds to what they were seeing, essentially making Victor invisible to them. Luckily, there were few enough people around that she could handle them as he walked through the aquarium's lobby and into the theater where she was sitting. She smiled when she saw him and slid down the bench a little to make room for him.

"Hey."

"Hey. How'd it go?" Birdy asked. Not that she knew anything about what he had gone off to do, but she knew it paid to be considerate to clients. Though she'd yet to broach _that_ subject with him just yet.

Victor simply shrugged and stared ahead at the tank of fish and sea life in front of him. Birdy watched as his eyes followed a large turtle making its way through the water. She turned her attention back to the tank and watched as the sea turtle dipped down then up, rocking its way from one side of the tank to the other. They sat there, hypnotized by the world in front of them before Victor asked, "Did you do that thing in the lobby?"

Birdy shook her head no while replying, "What thing?"

"That thing to the people? So they wouldn't see me no more?"

"Oh, that thing. Yeah, that was me," she said, still watching the fish. "I just figured you didn't need people staring at you. There's no reason for it."

Victor nodded, though he wasn't sure she saw the motion. "'Preciate the thought but you ain't gotta do that for me. I been stared at for as long as I can remember. Pretty used to it by now," he said with another shrug. Birdy was looking at him now and thought he shrugged too much. It was probably just his way of brushing off the world and answers he couldn't explain. Or didn't want to. She nodded at his request, reconciling with herself that he didn't need or want to hide what he was from the world.

They sat there a little while longer, enjoying the quiet and dappling light, before a group of kids came running through. They were quickly hushed by an adult who was trying, unsuccessfully, to wrangle the noisy bunch. No conservation lessons would be learned today. They just wanted to see a shark eat something in a messy way. As more visitors came into the room, Victor and Birdy decided that it was time to go. On the way to the car, Victor mentioned a nearby restaurant for lunch and since it had been a while since she'd had something more substantial than a simple slice of toast to eat, she happily agreed.

* * *

Birdy set her Styrofoam box on the kitchen counter next to another mysterious yellow envelope. _Not so mysterious now_, she thought. Piecing the clues together, and now that she knew a whole lot more about Victor Creed than she had twenty-four hours ago, she surmised that the folder held information on where he should be, where he should go, and whom he should kill. It was a chilling thought. In this folded paper was the name of someone whose life was soon to end. Could she care about that? That he was going to _murder_ someone? She wasn't really sure _what _she thought it.

When Victor had finished parking the car in the garage, he walked into the kitchen to find Birdy scrutinizing the envelope. She looked at him like she wasn't sure what she should do with it. That was fine with him. He didn't want her hands getting dirty, anyway. He sliced open the top and dumped the contents onto the counter. He picked up a smaller sealed envelope and opened that, knowing it would have what he considered to be the "important" information. Silently, he scanned the page, nodding to himself. By now, Birdy had thought to make herself busy and was finding a place in the fridge for her leftovers when he asked, "Think ya wanna head up to DC with me?"

Birdy closed the refrigerator door and asked, "How long?"

Victor hummed to himself as he scanned the document again for information. "Couple'a days. Leave tomorrow AM, fly back to Los Angeles the day after that." He wasn't sure if she would ask, but when he'd put in for this job, he'd made sure to request two airline tickets…just in case. If Birdy decided she didn't want in on Victor's dealings, he also had a one-way ticket back to L.A. with her name on it. All she had to do was say so. He wasn't going to be offended.

This wasn't her life, he got that. And he was starting to think he'd asked too much of her, last night, when he had all but begged her to stay and help him. He had been very nearly on the verge of tears; at least that's what he assumed that painful throbbing pressure in his eyes had been. But he forced the pain away, pushing it down until he could think and function again. He hadn't planned on telling her so much. Not so soon, at least. Last night's job had gotten hairy and he'd had to do a lot of improv work to get it done. And once Victor was in the thick of it, Sabretooth took over. Victor didn't always remember much when he wasn't running the show, as he called it. He was forced behind a threadbare curtain, locked away and forced to deal with the consequences of Sabretooth's actions. Certainly, Sabretooth could be the one to "run the show" if need be, but he usually left those mundanities up to Victor, preferring to simply come out for the bloodbath.

Unfortunately for Birdy, Sabretooth hadn't gone back to his half of Victor's psyche after last night's job was done. He'd caught glimpses of Birdy through Victor's mind and decided he wanted a piece of that action. Oh yeah. Pretty little thing like that needed to be shared. But she wasn't the frail little waif he thought she was. That girl had some fight in her. There was a moment, during the tussle, that he thought she'd given up. He was annoyed that it was going to end so quickly. He had hoped she was stronger than that. Amazingly, she had proven herself, though it had been to Sabretooth's detriment. Victor certainly didn't mind that one bit. He was determined to keep Sabretooth from Birdy as well as he could.

When Birdy quipped that she could spare a few more days with Victor as long as he could stand her, he felt himself relax. He hadn't realized he was strained with worry that she would say no. Birdy must have noticed the change and took his hand. This still felt strange, to both of them, but she was trying her damnedest to keep things normal. She evoked an unfamiliar feeling in his chest and he pulled her close, hoping to smother the sensation away.

Birdy felt Victor's arms tentatively wrap around her and she took it upon herself to deepen the silent embrace. When she looked up at him he was staring forward, eyes unfocused on any one thing. She reached up to touch his cheek, breaking whatever trance he had been lost in. She smiled softly before kissing him, a delicate motion. He pressed against her, easily coercing his way into her mouth. They stayed like that for a time, tasting and touching as they had before. There was less haste this time, and they let their desire dictate the pace.

When want had become paramount, Victor broke away and took pride in the flushed, breathless girl he had a hand in creating. Birdy smiled up at him again, but this time it was far less genteel and a great deal more salacious. Yeah, work details could wait.

* * *

Pulling up to the Georgetown brownstone, there was a comfortable familiarity that had bloomed between Victor and Birdy. Maybe it was the acceptance of what one had to offer the other. Or maybe it was the hope of something better. Birdy found herself wanting it to be both.

Victor got their bags from the back of the vehicle and she followed him up the steps to the front door of the townhome when, with the key in the lock, he suddenly stopped. "We got a visitor." The statement was parts ominous and annoyance but Victor continued on into the home. He sat their bags down leaving Birdy to close the door. As she came up behind him and entered the main living space, she saw what had him paused.

Reclining on the long, white sofa was a woman of blue. Her golden eyes flicked from Birdy up to Victor's towering form. It was obvious she was not going to move until he acknowledged her presence.

"Mystique," Victor said. Birdy wondered what that was supposed to mean when the blue woman inclined her head in response. With languid fluidity she moved to stand, curving around the coffee table to stand in front of Victor.

She glared at him before speaking. "Erik's been taken into custody. You need to stop playing house and get back to work." The way her voice reverberated tickled Birdy's ears.

A low growl emanated from Victor. "Where's the rest of my money?" His body had tensed and Birdy could see that he was making a show of his fangs, snarling at the mysterious woman in front of him.

"You'll get it when he's freed."

"That wasn't in the deal. It ain't my fault his plan went to shit. I did my part now I want what he owes me."

"I can guarantee you, you won't get it. Unless you help." Birdy couldn't take her eyes off the woman. She'd never seen anything like her before. The few mutants Birdy _had_ encountered throughout her life were nothing like this. Tall and evocative, she exuded sensuality and a calculating aloofness that fascinated Birdy. Cautiously, she pushed forward with her power, excited at the prospect to see what it was like inside such a strong and determined mind. Instantly she was forced out. "That's very rude, you know?"

Birdy blinked in surprise as the mutant turned to look at her. Having those yellow eyes sizing her up chilled Birdy and she found she couldn't hold the other woman's gaze for long. She didn't see the minute smile curving those blue lips as she hurriedly looked away. Victor's voice cut through the scene. "I wasn't paid to care about your war. I want that money."

Birdy glanced up at Victor just for something other than that woman to look at, but when she chanced another look, the gold eyes were still scrutinizing her. She felt them burrowing into her and Birdy knew she was way out of her league. "A word of advice, from one sister to another," slender blue fingers stroking the silk scarf hiding the bruises around Birdy's neck, "he's got nine lives. You don't." Birdy felt she'd just been paid a compliment by having this woman, Mystique, even speak to her so this time she made sure not to look away. She held the other woman's gaze steadily.

"Mystique," Victor intoned lowly. Birdy couldn't tell if it was meant to be a warning or something else, but Mystique gave him half her attention while still keeping an eye on Birdy.

"I'll think about your money," she said, walking toward the front door. As her hand fell on the door knob, there was a flutter of color and Birdy could not help but gasp as Mystique changed, the textures of her body rippling until the sapphire form was gone and in its place a tall, grey-haired man in a dark blue suit stood in her place. "Have fun, kids," she (_he?_ Birdy wasn't sure) said and walked out the door.

* * *

_AN: First, sorry it's been over a year since I last updated. I haven't forgotten this story, I'm just a busy student. Second, sorry for all those dorky line breaks. But this chapter was getting out of control so I took a machete to it. If you think THIS version is slow, you should'a seen what was goin' on before. Yeesh! Third, I promise things will be more exciting next chapter. This was all "get to know the other person", you know, like REAL adults do things, so please forgive it for being meh. Lastly, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all the reviews and faves and watches that I'm STILL getting for this. I get all swoony when someone faves me even though I'm terrible at updating. Can't wait for the next chapter...some shit be goin' down! Stay tuned!_


	9. Chapter 9

After the fireworks of Mystique, the rest of the night in DC was relatively boring. Birdy found ways to occupy her time while Victor did whatever it was he did to prepare himself and when he was gone for the night, Birdy sat alone watching television. This was not turning out to be the adventure she hoped it would be.

Some hours after going to sleep, Birdy awoke to the sound of the shower running. She knew that it could only be Victor. Steam snaked out from behind the almost-closed door of the bathroom as Birdy pushed it open. As she did so, the water turned off and the shower curtain chimed as it ran along the rod. Victor looked up as he began drying off, giving Birdy a weary smile. As she walked in, she was careful to avoid the pile of clothing on the floor. Crimson fluid leaked from the garments, filling the grout lines of the tile. Birdy grabbed another towel and wordlessly began helping Victor dry off. He sat on the edge of the tub and Birdy used her towel to dry his hair. When they both felt they'd done as much as they could, she reached for the hairdryer, plugged in on the counter, and began drying Victor's long, damp hair. It didn't take long and soon, they were both crawling into the bed. Victor had been awfully quiet but Birdy felt she was getting to know him well enough, that if he wanted to share with her, he would. So she simply snuggled up next to him and drifted back to sleep.

That had been three weeks ago. When they'd arrived at LAX and before they had parted ways, Victor said he would call. He had her cell phone number from when she'd punched it into his phone herself, so she knew he had it. He hadn't told her where he was going or how long he would be and she hadn't asked. For someone who so badly needed her help, he seemed to be doing pretty good on his own. As the days went by, Birdy tried _not_ thinking about Victor. By now though, his actions (or inactions) were more of a mystery than he himself was. Birdy had finally given up on an explanation, figuring he simply had no need of her, and Atlanta was just a rough patch he needed to work through. Trying unsuccessfully to put Victor out of her mind, again, Birdy focused on her current task; picking out the perfect shade of pink nail polish.

She had been spending the days in a strange sort of boredom. No one had called her, which was kind of unusual, but not unheard of. But soon the holiday season would get started. Halloween was next month and she _always_ went out with a client for Halloween. She settled on "Bashful Pink" and started to paint her toenails. As she finished up, leaning over to blow on her toes propped up on the coffee table with the cool Pacific breeze coming through the open sliding glass doors, her cell phone started ringing and vibrating on the side table at the end of the couch. Carefully but quickly, so as not to miss the call, Birdy reached for the phone, flipping it open.

"Hello?" she answered, lying stomach-down the length of the couch and trying to keep her toes from touching the fabric. She didn't look to see who was calling, so when Victor's deep voice answered, Birdy's heart thrilled.

"_Hey girl. Betcha thought I forgot about you?" _

Birdy smiled to herself. "Well, I _was_ beginning to wonder. Whatcha been up to?" she asked, keeping the conversation causal. She wanted to get out of him where he'd been and why it'd taken him so long to call, but she'd work on that subtly.

"_Just got caught up in work,"_ Victor replied. _"I got a couple'a jobs comin' up. Thought you might wanna join me?"_

Birdy thought quickly. 'Jobs' meant Victor would be gone, cleaning some poor soul's clock while she bummed around in a fancy house until he got back. There would be food and sex in between and if she was lucky, no Sabretooth. And the probability of Sabretooth showing up would be a hell of a risk. But the alternative was to sit around her own house, waiting for the phone to ring. Like she had been doing. _Three weeks_, she reminded herself. "I might have room on the calendar for you," Birdy said playfully. "Where to?"

"_Down to Jamaica for a couple days, then New Orleans for a meetin'. Whattya say?"_

Birdy wanted to draw it out a little. She didn't want to let on how desperate she was for something, anything, to do. "Well, I suppose a little tropical beach time could work. When would we be coming back?"

"'_Bout four days."_

"Hmm," Birdy hummed, "I think I can swing it." She was excited at the prospect of venturing out again with Victor, even though their first outing had been a dramatic hot and cold event, she was determined to make the most of the trip and her time with Victor. Finishing the conversation, he rattled off the details she needed, like airport, ticket counter and flight number. There'd be a ticket at the counter and he would be waiting for her at the gate.

After clapping the phone shut, Birdy hopped up from her place on the couch and dashed to her room, already planning her wardrobe for the week.

* * *

Finally passing through security, Birdy made her way to the gate for boarding and easily spotted Victor as she approached. He sat with his back to the wall, dark eyes scanning the other passengers wandering through the terminal. When he spotted her, he lifted his head in acknowledgement. Birdy smiled and wove around the rows of seating and found a place next to him to sit. "Hey," she said, "how long ya been here?"

Victor shrugged in his non-committal way and replied, "Not long." As Birdy settled her bag on the floor, Victor reached over to the seat beside him, and presented Birdy with a white box. She paused, her eyes going back and forth from Victor to the package. He nudged it toward her and she took it, eyebrows high. "Just a little somethin'. Saw it and thought of you," he explained.

Birdy quirked a small smile and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled in folds of white fabric was a wooden doll; a nesting doll. But rather than looking like the typical matryoshka, this one was painted black with a sparkling gold beak and claws; a raven. The smooth finish of the doll was so shiny that Birdy nearly missed the inset gem of the black bird's eyes. They were onyx. Birdy held her breath as she lifted the doll from the box and twisted its top, to see what the next doll looked like. Dark royal blue greeted Birdy, with grey and white strokes of paint mimicking the wings and breast of the blue jay. Oval sapphires shone back at Birdy's own blue eyes. Setting the pieces of the birds aside, she worked to open the blue bird to view the next doll. A sigh of astonishment left her as she saw the startling red that followed, with ruby eyes and the same gold-painted beak and claws. The lightness of the doll told Birdy there was probably only one bird left and she smiled up at Victor. "This is so beautiful. I can't even imagine…" she trailed off, shaking her head and admiring the dolls she had already uncovered.

"Like I said, they made me think o' you. Was hopin' you'd like 'em." Victor remembered when he saw them on the shelf. A few drops of blood had splattered across the dolls from the resulting spray. He hadn't realized the children would be home, his Intel had said they'd be away with their mother, but the girl's had become unfortunate victims of their father's misdealings. Not that it mattered to Sabretooth. He was just as content to take out three as to take out one, his own demented high the only payment for the extra loss of life. When Victor had finally come around, he saw the little dolls spaced perfectly on the shelf, their unseeing gemstone eyes taking in the pools of blood and eviscerated corpses around him, witness to the horror but unable to speak.

Birdy continued opening the dolls, carefully twisting the cardinal open and revealed the smallest of the dolls, a white bird. It's gold beak seemingly more glittering than those already seen. But its most striking features were the clear diamond eyes. They had to be two carets each, easily. Birdy held the little doll in her hand, admiring the beauty in the small figurine. This set was obviously no child's toy and Birdy wondered how Victor came to find such an expensive gift. Not that she hadn't been the recipient of pricey items before. But that was usually reserved for special occasions or holidays. Not even Mitchell had given her something so exquisitely charming. His gifts were usually more practical, or what he considered practical, for a young woman; jewelry, accessories, intimate underthings.

This token from Victor had more thought in it than Birdy would have considered coming from the intensely quiet man. It was stunningly beautiful, expensive and more than just a simple trinket. Looking at the collection of birds it suddenly struck her as to why the gift reminded Victor of her; the stacking dolls were _birdies._ The realization must have shown on her face because Victor said, with a hint of amusement in his voice, "I was wonderin' when you'd come 'round."

"I was dumbstruck by how lovely they were, that's all," she replied, feigning hurt at his words. "Where'd you get them?"

"On my last job. In Russia."

"Well, I love them." Birdy leaned in and kissed him on the cheek with one hand going to his thigh. As she pulled away she left her hand there, letting it linger for a moment.

Birdy repacked the dolls gently and set the box in the seat next to her. She got comfortable, or as comfortable as she could in the awkward terminal chair, and sidled a little closer to Victor. She hooked an arm through his and instantly she felt him relax a little. She chanced a question. "You seem a little tense. Everything okay?"

Victor looked at her, his brow slightly furrowed. He willed himself to relax more before replying. "I'm alright. Not a big fan of crowds is all," he said, motioning with a tilt of his head to the surrounding crowd that had started to prematurely line up at the gate.

Birdy considered Victor's distress and wondered if he might need a little of her special brand of help. He hadn't asked, not since that night in Atlanta, but she supposed it was the reason he'd asked her along in the first place. Not knowing the extent of Victor's psychosis, she didn't know if Sabretooth was right around the corner or if Victor had enough control to keep him in check. "Need me to help with that?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't offend him but more concerned about him keeping steady.

He shook his head, "Nah. You're distraction enough." He gave her what he hoped was a genuine smile, to let her know he was fine. It really was just her presence that helped to calm him. Not that he couldn't handle a simple plane ride without her, but with her next to him, warm and holding on like she was, kept him focused on something good.

They sat there in a companionable silent until the counter agent called for first class passengers to board the plane. Victor took Birdy's bag with his own, and once they'd settled in, he didn't mind as she put up the armrest and got close. By the time they'd landed in Jamaica, Victor felt more relaxed than when they'd left Los Angeles. This was going to be a good week.

* * *

It was a few hours after arriving in Kingston when Victor and Birdy made it to their resort. Victor had thought it efficient to go out and take an early dinner since his client wouldn't need him until later that night and he wanted to make sure he had some time with Birdy before then. After the meal, the pair made their way along a small, winding path to the door of their private bungalow. Birdy wondered just how private until she walked through the small living area and through a set of French doors that lead directly out onto the beach. In the dim light of the setting sun and the flickering glow from the torches that had been lit, Birdy couldn't see another bungalow along the stretch of beach, left or right. Taking the seclusion as an invitation, she reached down and slipped her wedge sandals off and stepped out onto the cool sand.

Victor came up to stand behind her, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. They both stared out at the quiet surf, watching the lights of the far-off fishing boats that had yet to come back to port. A faintly salty breeze drifted over them and Victor let his hands slide down Birdy's arms, moving to settle on her hips. She leaned back into him and he took the unspoken invitation to let one hand wander back up to a breast and the other across her abdomen, then down a little lower.

Birdy hummed as she felt Victor's hands moving over her body. Maybe it was the setting, maybe it was the three glasses of wine she'd had at dinner or maybe it was just being with someone who knew exactly what to do to make her body come alive, but Birdy had started to wonder about that fluttering in her chest where Victor was concerned. The heat between her legs she could explain away as lust. Being held and touched with a warm hard body pressed against hers? There was something automatic and almost primal about it and she didn't feel like she _needed_ to question it. But the weird little ache that rattled around in her ribcage was so insistent!

Now, Victor was nuzzling Birdy's neck, one hand stroking through her hair as his mouth tasted the warm flesh he found. She brought a hand up to touch his face, his whiskers scratchy under her palm. Birdy felt a rumble vibrate through her back and realized it was Victor diving deeper into their tactile foreplay. Touch, taste, smell; these were Victor's trigger. He was a sensory creature. It was how he made his way through the world. He was all about the natural way of things. Birdy certainly didn't mind. There was a raw honesty in the way he pressed his body against hers, the way he dragged his tongue over her skin, exciting the flesh there, the way he inhaled so deeply as if she were his last breath.

Drowsily, she looked out across the darkening horizon, letting Victor devour her. His pace was quickening and a stray thought shot across her mind like an arrow; Sabretooth. _He_ had held her close, as well. Didn't he run is hands along her curves, mimicking the caress of a lover? Birdy shivered and closed her eyes against the notion, forcing it away so that her only concern was Victor.

This change in her did not go unnoticed and Victor held her tighter, his hands and tongue more demanding of her attention. Another part of his body was making itself known and he pressed into her back, the motion creating a glorious friction as he rubbed and pressed the other hand that had found its way between her legs. He was mindful of his claws as he pushed the soft cotton of her skirt aside, letting the long shaft of his finger nestle into her folds, her dampness soaking the cloth of her panties. Birdy's panting breaths were a wordless indication that she was ready to be his, though in his mind, she was his already. The bruising was long gone, and although it was Sabretooth that had done the damage, Victor had settled it that she belonged to him now.

On the beach, they were a silhouette of hungry passion. Birdy finally turned to face him, Victor grunting at the change of position but happy enough when she forced him backwards into the bungalow. Inside, no lights had been turned on and the flickering glow from the torches outside made their shadows tremble.

* * *

_**A/N: **I had originally written more for this chapter (nearing 3500 words) and still hadn't found a nice stopping place. There's so much more I wanted in this chapter but it was getting too long. So, I just stopped it here. Not a whole lot happening, but chapter 10 will have some action. Maybe I'm going too slow? Any thoughts? Thanks to those who review and fave. _


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